The next life
by JelenaMuse
Summary: Stendan future selves meeting and falling for one another. Both straight, both with different life stories, aspirations, and basically nothing in common. Under the most unusual circumstances, they meet and become a crucial part of each other's lives. Almost none of the action takes place in Hollyoaks, but there are a few mentions. Will turn into a B. Brady/Ste Hay smut, eventually.
1. The ghost of a lover he never had

***Please note that in the beginning of the story, future Steven will be referred to as Jay ("J"). There is a very good reason for that. I know it will sound strange at first, but hopefully you'll get used to it. His real name will be a mystery for future Brendan to solve, once they meet of course, which might not happen for a couple of chapters, I'm afraid.  
The plot has a massive background story, which I originally planned to reveal in an epilogue, but decided against it. Giving you raw facts about their lives up to the moment they meet made the narration seem a bit impersonal, so I dedicated a chapter to each, offering you an insight into who they really are. I do hope you enjoy it.

***Just to get you started:  
Steven is a young journalist who was given a one of a kind opportunity to work for a well known news agency, but he first needs to prove himself. The editor insisted that his first major story should be a personal one, so he gave him an option to make it either about his own life or about some remarkable family member. This way, the editor argued, he would get a closer look at who Steven really was or where he came from. Steven didn't think his life was particularly interesting so he chose the second option. Ever since he was little he heard stories about his granddad, and how unusual his life was. He started asking around, gathering information. One of the oldest villagers who was once a great journalist herself, Nancy Osborne, promised to give him all the details she could remember, but advised him to go to the old house the Hays still owned, and check whether there was anything useful his granddad might have left behind. While rummaging through his grandfather's belongings he came across a stack of letters all addressed to someone named Brendan Brady. Intrigued, he started opening them one by one, getting more than he had bargained for. 

The door clicked closed behind him, barely making a sound. He slowly turned around, blinking the haze out of his eyes and took a moment to look at the nameplate on the door. And there they were, black cursive letters against the golden surface, spelling the editor's name, assuring him that he was still outside the man's office, that he did just finish the most awkward interview of his life and that, unfortunately, that it wasn't just a bad dream. But it felt like it was. Like he was in some sort of twisted reality where nothing was what it was supposed to be. He knew it would be hard to get a position he was striving for, even with all the education and references he had gathered along the way, but of all the requirements he needed to finally get the opportunity to work for Channel 4, this was the only thing he never expected to be asked to deliver.

After four years at the London's University of Westminster, intensive classroom training and field work, being mentored by some of the finest journalists UK had to offer, after writing scripts for bulletins, headlines and reports, after all the work on fast-paced news stories presenting material 'on air' and preparing and conducting both live and recorded interviews, after finally getting the Bachelors' degree in Journalism, after all the experience he had gotten, this was what he was supposed to waste it all on? He leaned against the nearest hard surface and banged the back of his head against it, dragging his hands over the face, in utter disbelief.

The editor's words still rang in his head, as clear as the driven snow. As an apprenticeship prerequisite, he was required to write an essay, a not-less-than-fifteen-freaking-pages-long essay on his own life or a life of a family member. For a moment he was back in his fifth-grade classroom, feeling as if the world was going to end because his English teacher had just given him the most tedious homework assignment of them all for the summer break, and he was wondering what he did to deserve it. The only explanation he was offered for this more than odd request was that the editor needed him to show his ability to be an _**impartial but involved**_ observer of his own life, turning cold facts and figures into a story worthy of listening, while stripping some of the veil of secrecy that he had weaved around himself. The problem with his application, argued the editor, was that it was too impersonal, _**bare,**_ too alienating compared to the intimate and direct approach the other applicants had taken. It made him seem cold, unapproachable, the total opposite of what he really was like. So, he was given a second chance. The apprenticeship was due to start in a little more than three months. He was given a fair amount of time. 

He recognized it as nothing more than an ultimatum, but given no other choice, he quickly recovered from the initial shock and answered that the essay would be written and forwarded before the three months expired. He was advised to use all the necessary time to gather enough material, especially if writing about someone else, to follow any leads available, from news agencies, the police, the public, press conferences, researching and collating evidence and information to support a story using other relevant sources such as the internet, archives, databases… And again, he was back at school again, being given a lecture. As if he didn't know what to do. He was relentless in pursuing facts. He would stoop to anything within the boundaries of legality: stalk, invade, befriend, provoke. He just never imagined doing those same things to himself, so to speak.

He didn't even know where to start. He definitely wasn't going to write about his own life. There was not much to say, anyway. At twenty-two, he was an undergraduate solely focused on building his career, in desperate need of a good job now his scholarship wasn't going to cover all his expenses. He had active enough social life, fair amount of angry ex girlfriends, a couple of close, but not too close friends, and numerous extended family members who doted on him like he was a family treasure or something. Annoying as they were, he loved them with everything he got.

Although he considered his mother, Margaret, to be his guardian angel, it was his father that he felt the closest to. Mr. Lucas Hay was the epitome of kindness, generosity and true devotion. He didn't have a mean bone in his body and he wasn't afraid to show it. He was hardworking, but friendly and loyal. There were people who tried to take advantage of his good nature, but what they didn't count on was that the man wasn't weak or foolish, not by any means. There was rarely a person who could outsmart him. He might have looked naïve, but there was a sharp mind behind those gentle eyes.

A smile spread across his face, just like every time he thought about his father. They had a special connection, and his mother had a theory that it was all in the eyes. All Hay men had deep blue eyes, long eyelashes and bushy eyebrows. Oh, and incidentally, crazy hairstyles. But it wasn't just the family resemblance. They always felt there was a strong bond between them, something that not even the distance had any influence over. They'd be miles away and just know that the other one was feeling sick or under the weather. They understood each other without many words ever being spoken between them. They had their own world, his mother would say. And apparently, the same was true for the relationship he had with his own father, grandpa Hay. Now, that was a man who had a story to tell. Suddenly, the cogs started turning and his shell-shocked mind finally decided to join the party, getting a boost up from a whole army of grey cells, it seemed. Yes, he was getting somewhere. 

Just when he was about to get his phone out and dictate some of the ideas into it, it started buzzing. Without even thinking about it, he took the call.

"Jay, honey! Why did it take you so long to pick up? Is everything ok? I must have called you a dozen times! I was about to call your dad, but I didn't want to get him worried over nothing. It was nothing, right? All is fine. You are fine, right?"

His mother was talking a mile a minute. From a usually quiet woman, that was a lot of words at a time. He must have properly scared her.

"Mum, mum, calm down! What's with all the questions? I only went for an interview, not to get a heart transplant."

"Don't even joke about that, young man!"

Great, now he had gotten her angry as well.

Ever since the car accident he was involved when he was 16, and him ending up in an operating room, needing two major operations to survive, his mother had been very sensitive about his health and would get sick even if someone mentioned the trip to hospital.

"I'm sorry, mom. I wasn't really thinking. It's just… You don't have to worry that much, you know? I am a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but that is not the point, is it now? Mothers worry. That is their job. And your job as a son is to pick up when I call. The interview should have lasted fifteen minutes at the most. I've been trying to reach you for two hours. What else was I going to think?" 

Her voice broke a bit at the end of that sentence, and he felt immediately guilty. But instead of apologizing once again, he simply clammed up, confusion dazing him into silence. Could it be that he was standing in front of that office for hours, contemplating about how unfair the whole ordeal with the essay was? If so, how embarrassing! What if someone had seen him? They already think him a bit strange, no, what was the word that was used…? Ah, alien! Well, great. Loitering in front of the man's office would definitely prove their point, then.

"Jay? Jay, are you there, love?", his mother softly asked. "I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I was just worried."

" No, mom, no, don't apologize. Don't ever apologize to me. You did nothing wrong. My head is just all over the place today, ok? But, the interview went well. I only have one additional task to fulfill and the job is mine."

"I knew it! I knew you could do it! I'm calling dad right away. And Leah, she'd want to know."

"You do that, mum."

"And I'll be making a celebratory dinner in your honor as soon as you're home."

He couldn't stop smiling. He loved making his family happy.

"Thank you, mum. You are the greatest!" 

"And don't you forget it! Love you, baby. I am so proud of you"

" Love you, too, mum!" 

He was about to disconnect when he remembered… 

"Mum, I was thinking of catching a train to Hollyoaks later today. I need to thank aunt Nancy for putting in a good word for me. I don't think they would have even considered me for the job if it wasn't for her."

"Of course, honey. I understand." 

" I might stay a couple of days, if that's all right."

You could have heard her exasperated sigh over the phone even if you 'd been a few meters away from the phone. It was that loud. 

"Young man, if there is another girl whose parents are about to call me to complain how you broke their innocent daughter's heart, you better watch out." 

"There isn't! I swear!" He tried to be serious but he couldn't stop himself from laughing at her outburst. That didn't happen as often as she believed it did. Once or twice. Well, maybe three times. At the most. 

"Oh, you are incorrigible! But I love you anyway. Have a safe trip, baby!" 

"Thanks, mum. Love you too!"

xxx 

The ride to Hollyoaks was quite uneventful. He was dead tired and slept through most of it, so he looked a right mess when aunt Nancy greeted him at the station. She, on the other hand, even in her late sixties still possessed the flair and poise of her youth. She kept her steel grey hair long; braided in a single braid that fell toward the small of her back. Her eyes were still full of fire and her frame looked strong. She was far from a fragile little lady you'd expect her to be. She never let the years get her. She kept busy and in the center of everything. Her success and appraise that followed it came later in her life than she had planned, but she had made a good use of it. Today, she was one of the most influential journalists in this part of England. She was the one who encouraged Jay to get into journalism, helped him with getting a scholarship and even sponsored some of his individual projects. She often claimed how she wasn't a greatest fan of his grandfather, or the men in his life, but that if there was one thing Steven Hay was good at, that was raising his children. Lucas and Leah turned into wonderful human beings, which is why she decided to turn the blind eye at the age difference between Lucas and her daughter Margaret when they decided to get married. Their strong and loving marriage only strengthened the ties between the two families.

Jay, of course, adored her and in turn, she did the same. Ever since her son, Oscar, died following a serious infection that due to doctor's misdiagnosis spread to her son's lungs, Jay had become the apple of her eye. But even he was never allowed to call her grandma. She was simply Aunt Nancy, or Nan.

As soon as she laid eyes on him her expression brightened. She seemed even younger then.

"Bless you, my boy, but you look so much like him!" was her 'hello'. 

"Who is it this time you are referring to aunty, my uncle or my granddad? It's hard to keep track these days."

"Oh, you and your sharp lip! One of these days someone is going to shut you up by kissing it into oblivion", she teased, hugging the life out of him. 

"I wish", he replied with the brightest of smiles. 

"Ah, you'd only break their heart as usual." 

" I don't br…", he started, getting out of her arms, a frown starting to form on his forehead. "Why are you all saying this? It was only a couple of girls, and now I'm a registered heart breaker?"

"You were never good at Math, my dear," she joked, but he could see her eyes were watering.

"You do look like him, you know? Well, you are Hay alright, with those long lashes and those magnificent eyes. The cheekbones and the hair might be their traits as well, but these muscles here, my boy, they are all Osborne", she said, pinching his biceps."And your voice…God forgive me, but that is one thing I am happy you never inherited from your granddad."

"And why's that?" he asked, already intrigued.

"It's enough to say that if you had heard him laugh, you would have thought a donkey was being tortured."

"Nan, that was really cruel", he scolded, trying to keep a straight face but burst into an uncontrollable laugh.

"It might be, but see, this is music to my ears and I wouldn't want to have it any other way. Come on, let's go home."

xxx 

He always got the same room when he was at his Nan's and it was always the one with old photos covering almost every inch of the walls. As a young boy he loved looking at them, trying to figure out who was who, usually making the wrong guesses. But his granddad, him he always recognized. It wasn't that hard though. Sometimes it felt like he was looking at the picture of himself. Sure, he was bulkier, possibly a bit taller, and definitely more confident looking, but their facial features were almost eerily identical. He carefully studied the contours of his granddad's face when he felt the sudden need to trace his fingers along his own jaw line and then over his full lips, causing a chill to ran through him. He became instantly alert, the hairs at the back of his neck began rising, prickling his neck like needles of ice, a cold sweat slowly taking control of his body. His hand that caressed the face a moment ago started twitching in a now painfully recognizable fashion. It felt as if it was burning with sensation so he tried shaking it off, spinning around himself for the good measure only to notice his Nan standing by the open door looking at him with a confused expression on her face.

"Are you ok, love? Did you hurt your hand or something?" 

"What?"he stared at her with a blank expression on his face. "No! I mean, yes! Yes, that's exactly what I did." 

"Well, you must be tired after all the excitement you had today. Maybe you should make it an early night", she said, worry evident in her voice. 

"No, no, Nan, I actually have a favour to ask of you." 

"Oh, what kind of favour would that be?" 

" I need you to tell me about him" he said pointing at the photo that managed to catch his attention so thoroughly that he missed his grandmother entering the room . "About Steven Hay, I mean", he clarified. 

"About Ste? What brought this on?" she was curious then, confusion replacing her earlier worried expression. 

"Well, it's for the assignment I was given. It's that or no apprenticeship. He's my _school project_ ," he murmured.

"You've got to be kidding me. But why?" she asked, not really believing what she was hearing.

"The editor said I was being too impersonal in my application. Everything about it was impressive, except my personality apparently." 

"So now you have to write an essay about your dead relative? This doesn't make any sense. I'll give him a call right now…," she turned to leave the room. 

"You will do no such thing," he replied sternly, making her stop in her tracks.

"Excuse me?" 

"I don't need you fighting my battles for me, Nan," he said, rounding the big bed to come and give her a soft hug. 

She stood rigid at first, but relaxed into it after he started purring in her ear. 

" You know how much I love you, right? But you do have a tendency to meddle into things you should be leaving alone. I'm the same, so I know what I am talking about. That is what makes us good reporters. But this, this I need to do on my own. And I kind of get it, now, why he wants me to write it, I mean. I am never going to be good enough if I keep myself out of every story, if I don't let it get me at least a little."

" You are not detached or cold, my boy! In anything, you are overemotional!" she tried to reason with him.

" I might be, but I have a hard time showing it. You yourself told me many times how good I am at locking myself away from everyone and everything, how my inner world is my sanctuary and that I go there whenever I feel vulnerable, whenever something is out of place. But I can't keep doing it, Nan, because it pushes people away." 

He closed his eyes for a moment, but you could see them moving rapidly behind the lids, as if he was dreaming wide awake. 

"You remember how I was after the accident? I barely spoke to anyone. I didn't even feel the need to. And you know what, I didn't even miss it. The interaction. I was happy. And that scared me. How could I have been happy being all alone? You know what my mind was telling me?" he finally let go of her and looked her in the eyes. 

"It created some sort of a fairytale world where I was keeping myself safe until the one I was waiting for came for me. It was telling me that I needed to be patient as the time still wasn't right. It was telling me that I was good on my own until then, that I didn't need anyone else. And I agreed." 

He suddenly stopped talking when his grandmother reached for him, trying to get her arms around him, offering comfort. But he stepped away. If she did that, he'd never say what he needed her to hear.  
When he saw alarm gathering in her eyes he offered a barely there smile but, nevertheless walked toward the opposite end of the room, somehow finding himself standing in front of the photo of Steven Hay again. 

"You all joke about me dumping the girls all over, but the truth is I never felt more than a mild crush for any of them. They were just pale, barely there versions of the thing that I was supposed to have, that I was promised but that had been taken away from me. I've been living with that feeling for such a long time, Nan, and I am tired of waiting. What if that someone never comes?" 

He wasn't even aware of how he had gotten himself on the bed, but he was now leaning against the headboard, his knees pulled up, and his head safely between them. Hearing her speak again made him raise his head to face her worried look. 

"You are still very young, Jay, there is a great life in front of you. Things have just started to heat up. Soon you will be in the center of so many things that you won't find time to be alone. And as for the one you are waiting for, well maybe they are on their way. Give them some time. Your dad found the love of his life when he was a lot older than you are right now. These are not things that we have any control over, dear."

"That's just it, Nan. I think I do have at least some control over it. I need to let it go, this illusion that I created in my head while I was lying in that hospital."

"You had a near death experience, dear, that changes everyone. "

"But it did not change me, Nan, it just showed me all the wonderful things that I could have and then it took it all away. Someone else's life flashed before my eyes, but it was like I lived it and it was all I could ever hope for. It lasted for only a couple of seconds, but I've never been more happier. And now, I can't even remember a single thing about it. All I have been left with is a touch here, a smell there… Nothing more. Maybe I am imagining it in my head. Maybe I should have accepted some professional help a long time ago." He felt defeated. He felt he was losing it all over again, and this time around he didn't have an excuse of being in an accident that almost cost him his life.

"You are not crazy, and don't let me hear you talk like that again. All right? Those things you are having, you know what there are, we've talked about it. We all experience them from time to time. A déjà vu here and there doesn't make you a lunatic."

"No, Nan, but when _you_ have them, are they telling you that you are wasting your time with someone else? That you are kidding yourself that it could ever work? That you don't need someone who will always be a second best? Well, that's what they are doing to me. I find a girl I like, and I think she might be the one, and I try, I really try but as soon as things start to heat up I feel … Every touch feels like a betrayal, every kiss is forced out of me, a feel sick to my stomach." His face became distorted with disgust while he was saying this, as if he was reliving every single moment he spent in the arms of another.

"Maybe you should try boys then." His Nan tried cheering him up a bit. Truth be told, she was out of her depth here. She wanted to snap him out of whatever took hold of him in that moment, because she couldn't stand to see her boy suffering. And he was, there was no doubt about it. And anyway, maybe he needed a change. To explore all his options.

"Nan, this is not a joke," he said, his voice low.

"I'm not joking."

"Don't be ridiculous. Don't you think I would have known by now if I was gay?" he tried to reason with her. 

"Steven didn't know either." 

"What do you mean he didn't know? Of course he knew." 

"No, he really didn't. He had a girlfriend, lived with her, had Lucas." 

"I know all that, but he always knew that it wasn't enough, otherwise he wouldn't have looked for something else."

"Like you're not looking?"

That stopped him from saying whatever he was about to. He looked like he was thinking and then he offered a simple: "It's not the same".

"I'm not saying it is," she let out a deep sigh. " I just want you to keep your options open. I want you to be happy. And I've seen what hiding who you really are can do to a person, how destructive it could be." 

"Are we talking about granddad?" he suddenly felt more interested in what she had to say, curiosity overriding every other emotion and driving him to ask the question without even thinking about it.

"Never mind that now. You need the rest. And my old bones are screaming at me to find a bed and lose myself in it."

"But…"

"We'll talk about this more first thing in the morning, ok? I promise. If you want to know about your granddad I'll tell you all I know. And maybe we could visit the old house in the village. Some of his belongings are still there. We could go through them together. "

Now that was something, at least. But if there were things to be discovered about that man's past, he wanted to do it himself. Investigation is what he did best.

"I'd rather do it alone, Nan, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure, whatever you want. 'Night, honey. "

"'Night, Nan." 

As the door closed behind her a sense of relief came over him. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was alone again, safe in his imaginary cocoon, or whether it was an unspoken promise of the new, yet unexplored life he was about to invade, dig into it as if it was his favourite dish. He smiled at the thought. For the first time in a long while Jay went to bed knowing that he wouldn't be having trouble falling asleep. He was basking in this feeling of accomplishment because he was certain now that it had started. Whatever it was he was waiting for, he was more than ready for it to finally begin.


	2. The Monster and the little boy

*** Thank you for the lovely reviews. 

*** As you might have noticed, English is not my first language, therefore you'll have to excuse any possible mistakes, especially the ones that have to do with the differences between British and American English.

XXX

Again, something to get you started:  
Brendan is a troubled young man, growing up in a strict but loving Catholic family. Ever since he was 8 years old he suffered from mild to serous, what they believed at the time were epileptic episodes, causing him to black out during the day, or wake up screaming during the night. He later explained that during those episodes he felt like he was being violently pulled out from his own reality, only to experience the worst kind of nightmares in someone else's. They left a huge mark on his personality. He became withdrawn and distant. All that miraculously changed when he turned 16. The episodes subsided and he was able to make something of his life. With a business degree, a great job, the support of his wife, friends and family, he thought he couldn't be happier. Until his baby daughter was born. The switch was turned again, and Brendan withdrew to his darker self, the only light spot in his life his little daughter Leah. When the blackouts and nightmares started again, this time they revolved around a mysterious presence that fascinated him so much that he swore he would sleep the rest of his life if he had to, if that meant finding out who or what that presence really was.

XXX

His _grandmother's dining room_ had always been the centerpiece of domestic life. Whether they gathered as a family alone or extended the table to include guests, the custom-made dining room table had been the place where everyone talked about the current events, discussed any family issues, shared their plans for the following weekend, shamelessly admitted what or who they were involved with at the time, or quite rightly celebrated _their moments of_ success. It should have been a happy childhood memory for him, except it wasn't. Most of the time he had a feeling of being completely out of place there, the odd one out, locked in his own world as always. Today wasn't any different, with the slight possibility of the whole thing turning out even worse than he had remembered. He could just tell that the evening was going to be reduced to one of those god forsakenly long dinner conversations served with opinions and judgments. He silently prayed for the strength to get through it without having another breakdown.

Over the last year he'd used almost every acceptable excuse not to turn up at any of those monthly gatherings, avoiding his family as he would a plague, until he ran out of them, and was forced to confirm his attendance. One of his cousins was getting engaged and it would have seemed rude of him not be a part of this pre-engagement celebration. Except, no one was actually talking about the happy couple. The atmosphere was far from happy, just as he knew it would be. He kept waiting to see who would be the one to break the ice this time, who would be brave enough to breach the dreaded topic of his failed marriage and give his grandmother a perfect opportunity to start another lecture on the importance of children being raised in a loving home, with both of their parents in it.

To his surprise, Kate was the one who ended the awkward silence by clearing her throat in a not so lady like manner. It was so unlike her that he had no choice but to turn around and offer her a smile, not bothering to hide the fondness he still felt for her. Unfortunately, she took it as an encouragement and went on with her question.

" So, how have you been, Brendan?" 

It had been a year since he separated from his wife and left their family home. In that time he'd used every opportunity to see his daughter, but made it clear that he didn't want to have any contact with the child's mother. It seemed cruel at the time, but he knew that it was for the best. Others didn't see it that way, of course, rather blamed him for abandoning her right after she gave birth to their child, choosing to pursue his own selfish plans. They couldn't have been more wrong and more right at the same time. It wasn't a choice. It was a necessity. 

Angling his head to the side in that weird habit of his, he turned his focus entirely on Kate. Her beauty was never lost on him. He appreciated it even now, her delicate built, the long dark hair, glassy hazel eyes, rosy cheeks, soft lips. Everything was there, everything a man could ever want. So why didn't he?

"Well, are you going to answer your wife, Brendan?" came a stern voice from the end of the table, startling him from his reverie.

"It's okay, Eileen. If he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to."

You could hear the hurt in her reply, but she still defended him, like she always had. Kate had been his anchor, his savior, his defender for such a long time that the role felt natural to her and she kept doing it out of habit. It used to make him feel warm inside to know that he had her backing him up at all times, but now it just seemed intrusive and quite frankly irritated the hell out of him.

"She is not my wife anymore, now, is she? I thought by now you would have gotten the message, grandmother. After all, you never could keep your nose out of my affairs."

" Drop the attitude, boy. You know that I'll always want the best for you."

"Ah, and that would be going back to the wife I don't love anymore, the house that suffocates me and the job that bores the living daylights out of me, wouldn't it?"

God, he despised that woman so much. Her controlling tendencies had made his life a living hell when he was a teenager, and he would have cut all his ties with her a long time ago if it hadn't been for his parents. He shot daggers at her across the table with the intensity of his stare, but was forced to break eye contact at the sound of a chair being dragged over the floor. He turned quickly enough to see Kate's retreating frame as she ran out of the room.

"Brendan, that was absolutely uncalled for!"

This time it was his mother that did the scalding before leaving the room herself, obviously to comfort her daughter-in-law. Well, soon to be ex daughter-in-law.

The room fell silent once again. Three pairs of eyes were watching him intently, following his every move, expecting him to do anything but keep calm and quiet. But he did. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him lose it. Not again. It would only serve to prove their point – that his condition was turning for the worse and that he was in need of another of those so called treatments. He promised himself he wouldn't put himself through that again. He could not afford to become as vulnerable as he was as a kid. He could not trust them. Not even his uncle Declan who was the only person in that room he actually felt close to. All he ever got from the man was acceptance and understanding, no matter what. His support and approval meant the world to him and he dreaded ever having to disappoint him. Even now, the look he gave him wasn't the one of judgment, but of worry. He knew his nephew was close to a breaking point. He wanted to help. But Brendan shook his head slowly at him and letting out a long breath, closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. It took a few minutes for him to get his breathing under control. To the outsider it must have looked like he was sleeping. But they knew better. He was tuning them out.

Beyond frustrated, his grandmother abruptly stood up, closed the distance between them and with a superior look on her face started clicking her fingers in front of his face, gauging for any kind of reaction.

"Are you even in there, boy? Or are you conveniently daydreaming again? Of course you are. Every time you are confronted with the truth of your failed life choices, you run away to that special place of yours, hiding like a little girl."

"Mother, that is enough!" finally his father had something to say.

Brendan blinked the haze out of his eyes and looked at his father in absolute confusion. Rare were the moments when Padraig Brady stood up to his mother, not to mention raise his voice at her. He loved his father, but the fact that he lived in his grandmother's shadow rattled him more than he would have liked to admit. Every decision his father had ever made needed to be blessed by the woman's approval. She had gotten so far into his head, shaping and molding him after her own fashion, that his father lost any trace of his own identity a long time ago and became nothing more but a puppet whose strings were left at the mercy of a very skillful manipulator, to be pulled at her will.

It must have been the mention of his son's medical condition that had gotten the rise out of him.

" I think I'm gonna leave now, before this turns ugly. Well, uglier", Brendan said, pulling his chair out. "It was a pleasure as always," he couldn't stop the sarcasm dripping from his lips. "Father. Uncle. Let's not do this for a while, ok?"

He was out of the house before any of them could even respond. Yes, he knew it was a coward's way out, but it was also the only way out. He needed the safety of his own room. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. 

xxx 

" How could you, mother?"

Declan was standing by the chair Eileen sank into after watching her only grandson leave her house, obviously displeased with the way he was treated. He could see that she knew she had crossed the line, mentioning the unmentionable, but he was also sure she felt no regret for it. When Eileen wanted something, she was ruthless and relentless in her pursuit. And she wanted to keep the Brady name as spotless as it could possibly be.

" I don't like to be ignored, son. And I hate it when he simply disappears like that. I sometimes think he does it on purpose. "

"You do know he has absolutely no control over it, right?"

" I am not so sure anymore. Maybe at some point. But I find it odd how it always kicks in when I am around. "

"It's because you are always going at him. The boy can do no right in your eyes, mother. You keep criticizing him and, quite frankly, it's doing my head in, not to mention his."

"He is hardly a boy now, and you keep defending him. Why can't you all see that he has done us all wrong by going out on his family? Do you even care what people are going to think? I can't go on lying to our friends, making up excuses. He needs to fix this."

" Mother, I am sorry," Pedraig came and put his arm around her shoulders, "but he is not going back to Kate. We went through all this a few months ago. I don't want him to have another relapse, and if this is what is making him feel better, then we should all support him."

"He can't have a divorce. I won't allow it."

"He already signed the papers," Declan interjected.

"Yes, but she hasn't"

"You can't force them to stay together. Even Kate is beginning to see that it is for the best."

"A divorce will kill us. I wouldn't be able to show my face in the… ," she sighed. "Does he even think about how this reflects on the rest of the family?"

That was her biggest concern, of course. They were one of the Belfast's most respected families. In the light of her efforts to achieve just that she effectively controlled her closest ones, planning their lives up to a detail. If anyone stepped out of line, she was there to get them right back on track. She did everything in her power to make people forget that they were ever related to a convicted serial murderer. She made her boys study hard, she enrolled them into as many extracurricular activities she could possibly squeeze into their young lives, forced them all to get business degrees and gotten them married to women worthy of anyone's praise. They as a family hosted many charity events and became donators to nearby schools and hospitals. It was a picture perfect image, with only one flaw in it – Brendan. 

She strongly objected to her grandson being named after her ex husband, but when he was born Declan had just found out that he couldn't have children of his own so it was easy for him to convince his brother to carry on the family legacy, and give his son the family name. So the baby was named Benjamin Brendan Brady, or as they all liked to joke 'the triple B'. Although his grandmother insisted on calling the boy Ben, she was the only one who did so. The rest of the family simply liked Bren more, especially Cheryl, who of course was delighted by being able to use the nickname again. When the boy turned out to be a troubled one, Eileen blamed it on the name and called it a family curse. 

Although Eileen and Brendan could now not stand being in the same room without going for each other's throats, that hadn't always been the case. In the boy's early years she was his everything. She simply adored him. He was her perfect little angel. It helped that the boy was really smart and had a wonderful, bubbly personality. He would always bring a smile on people's faces and rarely anyone was able to resist his charm. This perfectly suited Eileen's need to be accepted, to be valued as a part of the society. She doted on him, bringing his every whimsical desire to life. She simply spoiled him rotten.

You'd have to wonder what turned the adoring grandmother into a judgmental, despising woman who couldn't care less about hurting her grandson if only to get a slightest reaction. It all started on the night of Brendan's eighth birthday.

Having in mind his inexplicable fondness for antique trains, the overly _extravagant themed_ party, courtesy of Brendan's great aunt Cheryl, was set up in the backyard of the house, along with a miniature ride-on train. As usual, Cheryl went a little overboard. The decorations and accoutrements must have cost a fortune - a bouncy castle, a face painter, a balloon artist and, of course, roaming super hero characters who were hired after Brendan argued that they also rode trains. Even though everyone, including the musicians, wore overalls and conductor hats, in accordance with the theme, the hero of the party was the one and only man of steel, Superman. The costume was hard to get, as it wasn't as popular as it used to be, but nothing was impossible for his grand aunty. She would have given him the moon and stars if he had only asked.

Guests feasted on sandwiches, tacos, chips and chicken fingers. The cake was a huge green kryptonite looking thing which they all had a slice of, proving that not even that could hurt his favourite character of all times. A fairy floss machine and a lemonade stand topped off the big day. Brendan was as happy as a lark.

Eileen was also there, of course. After two hours of running after children, making sure nothing bad happened, she looked exhausted, sitting at one of the back tables, drinking a rather funny looking lemonade. Brendan wanted it to be blue, so it had to be blue. How they managed to do that, no one knew, or cared, as long as it was drinkable, and Brendan was pleased.

The last thing on the list was handing out the goody-bags, something she was in charge of. _As the guest were leaving_ one could hear them talking about how colorful and tasteful the event was and how eagerly everyone would be looking forward for the one next year. Eileen couldn't have been any prouder.  
That night she tucked Brendan in, kissing him on the forehead. It would be the last time the two shared an intimate moment like that. 

xxx

Brendan was jolted out of bed by yet another violent dream. His sweat covered body was shaking and he had a hard time figuring out where he was. The only light came from a nearby street lamp, casting a shadow through his bedroom window. He felt drawn to it, to the light. He wanted to be as far as possible from this darkness that was within him, that was slowly consuming him. He banged his head against the window sill, asking himself for the hundredth time these past couple of months "Why? Why were the nightmares back?"

It had been almost 20 years since his first one and he swore he still felt the chill that ran through his body at the sensation. The memory of it was so clear that he could recall it without missing a detail. It was after his eighth birthday party. He was brilliantly happy. All of his friends turned up, he got the presents he asked for, and he got to play Superman for a day. But, when the high of the excitement was over, he felt dead on his feet. The fatigue had caught up with him and he barely had the strength to say good night to his grandma before the sleep took over.

The first thing he heard were the footsteps that sounded more like someone was dragging their feet up the stairs. Up they went, one leg at a time. With every step they seemed to be getting closer, stopping right in front of, what he guessed was his room. T _he door opened with a_ low-pitched creak reveling a silhouette of a man big enough to block the light the source of which was somewhere far behind him. With a muffled thud the man closed the door and turned to face him. There was something familiar in his movements, in the way he looked at him, in the way he smiled. He trusted this man. He loved him. When the man approached the bed, he made him enough room to sit on it. And then it hit him. The smell, the odd mixture of sweat, cigarettes and what he thought he recognized as whiskey. His dad used to serve it to his friends at the late dinner parties and at one such occasion jokingly offered Brendan a sip. Wanting to be brave, he snatched the glass, brought it to his lips but bolted at the last minute. The smell was so strong it simply put him off. Somehow he knew that the man sitting beside him on the bed enjoyed the drink too much. But he forgave him for that. We all had our flaws.

A hand sneaked under his blanked and he smiled again. The man was there to tuck him in. He did it every night, pulled the covers up to his chin, kissed him on the forehead and left. Except that this time, he didn't leave and instead of pulling the covers up he threw them off the bed. Slightly confused, Brendan looked up only to see the man staring back at him with the look on his face that he couldn't define. He started feeling a little uncomfortable and a little cold. Dropping his legs to the floor he went to stand up and go pick up the blanked when a hand stopped him. The last thing he was conscious of were the words "Where do you think you are going, little girl?" spoken with a bit of a slur before the searing pain took over.

A blood curdling scream escaped Brendan's lips as he bolted upright, his eyes wide open, a look of fear and panic written all over his face. Within seconds his parents were right beside him, speaking words of comfort, telling him that it was nothing more but a bad dream, except he couldn't really hear them. He might have been awake, but his body was still trapped in that awful room, going through unimaginable pain and suffering. He was covered in sweat, uncontrollable shakes going though him, his breathing fast and his heart rate so erratic that he was afraid if would jump out of his chest. His whole body ached and he started pleading, begging for it to stop. When nothing helped he began grabbing a handful of skin here and there, on his arms, his chest, his thighs, pulling at it, trying to peal it off. When the bruises started forming and the blood rushed to the surface, his father couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed him in a tight hold, trapped his legs between his own, and put his chin on top of the boy's head, effectively stopping him from hurting himself further. He spoke softly in his ear, tender words, words of love and encouragement, praising him for being a brave little boy, telling him that everything would be okay, that he was safe now. It broke him to realize that he could not offer him any kind of consolation because his son was not even there, not mentally anyhow. For torturing 15 minutes he held on to the boy, the screams and pleas tearing at his heart, ripping him apart.

When it was finally over he released Brendan from his arms, crawled around him on the bed, put his little cheeks between his hands and asked him whether he was all right. Brendan's face showed no emotion, no fear, no pain, nothing. His eyes were unfocused and he looked right through his father. That's when he realized the boy didn't even recognize him. His body was so still he wasn't even sure he was breathing. He tried to slowly lower him back into bed, but as soon as his hand got in contact with his son's skin, the boy keeled over and violently emptied the contents of his stomach. The strain of it brought him back from wherever he was and he began to quietly sob, repeating over and over again that he was sorry.

Over the whole ordeal his mother stood motionless by the window, too shocked to be of any help. Tears were running down her face which was as white as a sheet. Even after it was over, and the boy was lightly snoring in his father's arms, she still hadn't moved. It was Eileen who first found the strength to speak.

"That is my grandson you are holding in your arms. Make sure this never happens again, and even if it does, you will tell no one about it. The same goes for you," she turned to her daughter-in-law. "Is that understood?"

When she got a silent nod from both of them, she continued.

"Good. We will figure out what had brought this on, and we will fix it." 

She then walked to the bed, put her hand on top of her grandson's and said,

"My perfect little boy."

You could hear it in her voice that this time she didn't really mean it.

Xxx

Brendan's life from that day on changed dramatically. The nightmares continued on a regular basis, which led to his refusal to go to sleep. Every night he would plead with his parents to let him stay up, just a little longer, but no matter how late he got to bed, as soon as he went into deep sleep the horrific dreams would take over. The more he had them, the more his grandmother insisted on getting medical help. The fist doctor who examined him defined them as night terrors, explaining that some, although usually younger children had them and that he would grow out of them. The boy needed to feel safe again, emotional or physical stress was to be avoided at any cost. He recommended that the boy slept in the same room with his parents, but in a separate bed. The room should never be dark, but not too bright either. Dim light from a nightstand lamp worked the best. Every night before sleep they talked to him, telling him that there was no reason to be afraid, that they were right across the room. And sometimes it did work. Those nights gave his parents hope that things were getting better, that he was getting better. Other nights, when he woke up with new bruises and cuts, hurting all over and asking them for help, they would feel the hopelessness of it all.

And then, to make things even worse, a new symptom emerged. After three nights of sleeping throughout the night, without any disruptions, Brendan was unusually energetic. He was in the backyard, kicking the ball about one minute, then jumping the rope or going on the swing the next. His mother had a hard time following him around, but she was _basking in_ the warmth of _her son's_ joy, especially after he'd spent most of his earlier days being almost lethargic. She must have taken her eyes off him for a couple moments because now she couldn't see him anywhere. She started calling out for him, and just as panic was beginning to settle in, she saw him climbing up into the mid-branches of a tree with the agility of a cat. Criticizing herself for allowing fear to take over so easily, she moved toward her son, the smile on his face relaxing her even more. She just about reached him when Brendan lost his footing and _skidded down the tree_ trunk, hitting every branch and bump as he finally tumbled down. He gave no sound and his body lay motionless on the ground. She was there in an instant, crouching by his side, searching for any injuries. When she didn't find any serious ones, only a few scratches here and there, she carefully lifted his head, and was surprised to see the boy's was conscious after all. She expected him to cry or at least complain about the pain, but he just kept staring at her, his eyes unfocused, saying nothing, doing nothing.

She got him into the house, put him on the sofa and called her husband. Within a little less than half an hour Padraig was there. His father's voice seemed to have done the trick, and Brendan came back to them. Blinking rapidly, he moved his head left and right, his face scrunched in confusion. He had no idea how he ended up on the living room sofa. He had no recollection of the fall either. But he did say he remembered playing with his sister on the beach, wearing his Superman costume. When his parents reminded him that he had no sister, he said that he knew that. He explained it was the other him he was referring to, the one that lived in his mind, the boy who got hurt a lot. This was the first of many blackouts he would experience throughout his childhood and every time he was asked what happened while they lasted, he would say that he went to visit the other boy.

At the age of nine, Brendan was admitted into hospital after almost being run over by a car. He and some of his friends were excited about going to their friend's party later that day, especially Brendan who had a little crush on the birthday girl. They were talking about it and making plans on their way home from school when they came to a crossing. Everyone stopped to wait for the green light, except Brendan, who just kept walking, ignoring their attempts to pull him back. Luckily, the driver had quick reflexes and managed to swerve the car just enough to miss him. It took them 20 minutes to get Brendan to respond, and once he did he said he remembered jumping from a pier and getting rescued by the police. His friends laughed at the joke, not realizing that he was dead serious. 

Admitting that something was definitely wrong with their son, the Bradys agreed to have him tested. This time the physician that took interest in their son was very thorough, so much so that he even contacted the school nurse and got Brendan's medical record faxed to him. He learned that the boy had trouble sitting still, focusing, or managing his impulses. He also seemed to be accident prone. The nurse suspected ADHD but was not qualified to make that diagnosis. With the amount of bruises and cuts Brendan had suffered in the previous months, the physician decided that the examination should include the interviews with both the parents and the child, done separately, in order to allow each party to speak freely. He also explained that there were naturally things the young person may be thinking, feeling, or doing that the adult was not aware of and he wanted to see what Brendan's understanding of his condition was.

The doctor's initial assumption that one or possible both of the parents might be physically hurting their son was dismissed after the first interview with the boy. He showed no fear or resentment while referring to his parents but talked about them with obvious affection. The doctor was more than relieved. However, what he discovered was that there was a male figure in his life who he was terrified of, and that he was afraid that the man would harm his loved ones if he ever decided to get away from him. When asked who that person was, Brendan simply said that he was someone the boy from his thoughts once loved but now feared and hated. The doctor tried to get more information out of Brendan, but it was a slow progress. He needed him to open up, and that took time. 

Reluctantly, the parents agreed that Brendan should be admitted for an observation, for no less than a month. When they left him in the hospital that first night, it was after he had cried his heart out, promising that he would never mention the boy or the nightmares again, if only they took him back home. Knowing it was for his own well being didn't make leaving him behind any easier.

For the next five years Brendan was in and out of hospitals with his diagnosis being changed year after year. He couldn't even count the number of medications he was forced to take or the institutions he stayed in. After being wrongly diagnosed as bipolar and suffering from delusional disorder, the doctors finally agreed that all his symptoms indicated a post-traumatic stress disorder: the recurrent re-experiencing of the trauma, flashbacks and nightmares, general numbing of emotional responsiveness, trouble concentrating, irritability, anger, poor concentration, blackouts, reckless or self-destructive behavior, feeling detached from others, holding negative beliefs about himself, and a tendency to blame himself for the trauma. He had them ALL. In the end it turned out he was a textbook case. The only thing they couldn't figure out was the underlying cause of the disorder as he had never experienced a traumatic event in his life. Not wanting to be proven wrong the doctors justified it with a premise that he either was not truthful about his past experiences or had buried them so deep that he was simply not able to recall any of the details.

Over the years he was taught how to manage his anger and anxiety, improve his communication skills, and use breathing and other relaxation techniques to help gain a sense of mastery over his emotional and physical symptoms. These coping mechanisms were paired with medications that helped decrease depression, panic or any other physical symptoms associated with the illness. So he was on a "healthy" dosage of Prozac and Zoloft. He was less aggressive and impulsive, but he also didn't feel very much alive. At least he was finally out of hospital and back to school.

Robbed out of his childhood he didn't feel particularly comfortable around children his age, but he managed to form some good friendships along the way. His good looks helped with girls and the boys deemed him dangerous because he was tough and smart at the same time. There was not much to do when you were stuck in a hospital twenty-four hours a day but read and study. Consequently, he was full of cocky aphorisms and proverbs, and loved to use them in the most inappropriate times. He also developed this walk, more like a swagger you'd expect of a rope dancer, which he used to impress the local girls. His movements were confident, purposeful and assured. reflecting the control he maintained over himself at all times. The shoulders beneath the fine tailoring of his jacket were already broad and strong and his limbs full of hard muscle, courtesy of boxing lessons he had recently started taking. He avoided group sports as his sudden flashbacks and blackouts made him useless, but boxing was different. He learned how to get in control of his body and use it as a weapon, but also as a shield. He got pretty good at it, but wouldn't get into a competition. For him, boxing was a survival skill, not a sport. He rarely got a chance to test how good he had become because in or outside the ring, no one dared challenge him.

Although life had gotten better, and the medicine he took each day helped with the physical aftermaths of his illness, the nightmares didn't go away. What's more, they got worse, more vivid, more detailed than before, but he wouldn't talk about them with anyone. With all the techniques of self-control he mastered, he was able to make himself wake up right after the nightmare was over, so there was no screaming, no violent reactions that would wake the whole house up. He also felt that the time was coming when he would finally be able to get rid of the monster that plagued his dreams, saving the other boy in the process as well.

The blackouts didn't disappear either, but Brendan didn't complain. He almost wished he had more of them. Just like his nights were filled with grotesque images of violence and hurt, the daily flashbacks were always about some good, happy memories of the same boy who was, just like Brendan, growing up and growing strong. In those moments Brendan felt confident that one day they'd both escape the nightmares and start living only the good parts.

On the day Brendan started his sixth-form studies the boy came to his dreams once again. For the first time he wasn't afraid, he wasn't running or fighting someone off. He was standing in front of his house, wearing a school uniform and a full blown smile. He pointed to a curly blond standing at the front door, blowing him kisses. Feeling foolish he sent her a kiss in return and focused on Brendan again. He nodded his head in confirmation. He too was leaving his home, going to college and to a better life. His sister was finally old enough to be left behind. He waved Brendan goodbye and gave him a silent 'Thank you'. Just as Brendan was about to ask him 'What for?' the boy disappeared. It would be years until he'd see him again.

xxx

Stepping into adulthood meant Brendan felt safer, more capable of taking care of himself. With the nightmares gone his sleep pattern improved and so did his general condition. He was in his grandmother's good books again, now that he was back to normal, as she had put it. She made sure he was provided for, followed his education, was proud of his accomplishments but never showed any affection toward him again. It seemed she could never forgive him for his 'lapse in decorum'. She had always believed that he could have fought the illness harder, but was too weak to even try.

It helped that Brendan was smart. Well, he had to be. All the private tutoring his parents had paid for had to produce some results. It was as if they were trying to make him the best at everything, to compensate for all the things he missed out as a kid. They would give and provide, and push and expect miracles. For his 18th birthday he got a car of his own, a business degree he couldn't care less about and a girlfriend on his hand. She was a daughter of a well respected family that was into marketing and advertising. They made a fortune dabbling into different types of business opportunities, including the local food and entertainment industry.

Brendan's grandmother re-introduced them at one of her posh parties and basically guilted him into a relationship, but he didn't actually mind. He was awkward around the girls and didn't really know how to approach them. The Brady charm, as his dad had called it, was wasted on him. Although he knew that he had it, he barely ever bothered using it. The girls were usually so frightened of him and his reputation as a bad boy that even the ones brave enough to venture into anything more serious with him were hugely disappointed by his lack of interest. He liked girls, very much so, but he just never found the ones that made his heart beat faster. And unlike any other teenager, he wasn't interested in purposeless and quickened encounters in school toilets and late night parties. He wasn't a romantic but it just didn't feel right, and even if he would dare to participate in such an event, his grandmother would have probably killed him if she found out. 

His first date with Kate was not so bad. He liked her bubbly personality, her strong will and a carefree attitude to life. He simply couldn't resist her. She could make him smile in an instant. She would talk his ears off with some silly gossip, but she would do it with such enthusiasm that he found it endearing. He started to relax around her and open up. They officially started dating a couple of weeks later. She was never pushy, never too demanding, didn't rush things. She knew Brendan needed time. Being a close family friend she knew how hard Brendan had it as a child. She was with him a few times when he had those blackouts and they scared her so much she ran home crying after each of them. At some point she stopped coming to his parties, not that many kids did, and she avoided being alone with him if she could help it. However, after Brendan's 16th birthday party that she was forced to attend by her parents, she started to see him differently. He seemed lighter somehow, more easy-going, more, well, alive. She figured he must have been just a troubled boy who needed just the right amount of help to pull through his crises and become a decent man she could one day even marry. Six years after their first date that's exactly what she did.

And for a while all seemed to be going well. Brendan started working at her father's company, covering public events. He spent a lot of time at club and restaurant openings, always searching for the next promotional opportunity, surrounded by the Ireland's finest, but every night he would come home to his wife. Six months into their marriage Kate became pregnant. Both of the families were thrilled and with his little girl on the way, so was Brendan. He spent most of his free time buying baby clothes, cribs and strollers, and what not, refusing anyone's help. Kate couldn't accompany him as she was advised by her doctor not to move too much due to the pregnancy being a bit risky. As the due date was getting near, all Brendan could think of was baby names and the first one that caught his eye was Leah. His little Princess Leah. It had a good ring to it, and the very thought of using it warmed his heart.

By that time the nightmares subsided to maybe three or four a month which was nothing compared to their earlier frequency. And even when they happened they were not as bad. They felt more like dreams, little fantasies of the things he'd never be allowed to have because they were forbidden, disgraceful and he felt ashamed for wanting them. The only thing was he never really understood what those things were. As always those cravings were not his, but of the other HIM that lived deep inside his mind, hidden from all the rest, coming out of the darkness only when his own conscious self was in a weakened state. At least he now knew that the boy he once tried to protect was now a man, but that didn't make him pity him any less. Even more than before, he wanted him to be at peace, and to have his own chance of being happy. He sometimes believed he saw glimpses of that happiness, mostly when one particular person was around. Although he never saw the face, he knew that their hair was dirty blond, their skin golden and soft to the touch, the eyes a wonderful shade of blue, the lips full and the smile as bright as the sunniest day you'd ever seen. This person was warm, flirtatious and very physical. He could almost feel their touch… The bodily sensations were so strong that at moments he could swear that he would be able to recognize the person if nothing else then simply by their unique smell or the shape of their cheekbones. And he knew, without any doubt, that the man from his dreams loved this person, so strongly, so unapologetically, so passionately that it made Brendon's own heart beat faster when those two people were anywhere near each other. And that was what scared him the most. No matter how strong a connection he felt to this other man, and how desperately he wanted him to hold on to those pleasurable feelings, he didn't want to get lost into them himself. He lived in constant fear that if others somehow found out about them, he would be institutionalized again. And this time, he really couldn't be certain they would ever let him out. So he kept quiet about them and saw those dreams as his guilty pleasure.

A month before his daughter was born Brendan got promoted. His father-in-law believed it was only fair after all the efforts and time he was putting in. That, however, meant more work, more social gatherings at which he needed to pretend he actually liked those snobby, pretentious people, and, finally, it meant hardly any time for his family. He started losing sleep again, skipping meals without even realizing it, and with his concentration level low, he would even forget to take his pills. The truth was, he didn't really think he needed them anymore. He was generally so exhausted that his body would simply give in as soon as he'd hit the sheets, and he barely ever dreamt at all. When he did, though, it was always about the golden skin that he would touch with so much care, tracing his fingers up and down the back and over the perfect curve of gentle shoulders, feeling the goosebumps under his tips, knowing that the person is ticklish, but willing to go through this little torture, knowing that what would follow next would be definitely worth it. After dreams like these, he would almost regularly find himself waking up two hours after the alarm sounded off, knowing that he was once again late for work, and that he would need to come up with yet another excuse, but a smile never really leaving his face for the rest of the day. 

Kate gave birth to a beautiful, healthy girl two days before the New Years Eve. Brendan got to see her for a few precious moments before she was taken back to the baby unit. She looked so tiny and fragile, that he was afraid the slightest touch would break her, so he never even attempted to hold her, but he promised himself he'd do anything, anything in his power to protect her from any harm that might come her way. Determined to carry out this little plan of his, he returned home waiting for the day he could take his two special ladies back home. He felt dead on his feet and crashed on the first hard surface he could find.

XXX

Brendan jolted from the sofa he stupidly fell asleep on that evening, immediately falling back down onto his knees, struggling to get some air into his constricted lungs, his heart beating so fast it was in danger of pushing itself out of his chest. He was covered in his own sweat and what he could have sworn was blood. His left shoulder felt as if a dagger was plunged and buried deep in it, and someone was purposefully twisting it, making his eyes water. He was unable to move, to speak, to call for help and he felt sure he was going to die, yet instead of being afraid or sad, or panicked, all he could feel was a sense of finality, of a closure, of being at peace with himself at last, his only regret being leaving the man he loved behind, not able to stop his pain as well. And through the loud voices, the sirens, and the whopping sound of a helicopter above his head, all he could really hear was himself repeatedly saying: "In the next life, Steven!"


	3. Who are you, Brendan Brady?

***I'd like to, again, thank everyone who took their time to comment. Samia, merci pour les belles paroles. Brendan et Steven vont bientôt se réunir pour la première fois dans le futur.

***I've been asked to stick to using either Steven or Jay and not switch between the two, but I am actually not doing that. I am sorry if that part of the story is confusing to anyone but Steven in this story is the actual Steven Hay from Hollyoaks, while Jay is his future grandson, and they are two completely different characters. As you will see in this chapter, I will be placing them in the same scene, and it would be even more confusing if I had to refer to both of them as Steven So, please bear with me for a little while longer. I also had a friend telling me that I am writing about Jaydan and not Stendan As the story progresses, there will be fewer reasons for the original character to be mentioned, and then I will be able to make the switch and we will have our own Stendan pairing.

The very next morning Jay found himself standing in front of an obviously decaying , hauntingly empty looking building, suspiciously eying the stairs he was supposed to take to get to the blue door, which apparently led to his granddad's now abandoned apartment. He couldn't help but wonder why it was still standing there, why it hadn't been taken down and replaced by any of the modern structures that Hollyoaks was now so proud of. He took the first cautious step, and after making sure that his feet wouldn't go right through the crumbling base, made his way up. The paint on the door was peeling, and there were even some small cracks visible here and there. It made him kind of sad to see it succumb to the passage of time in such a way. It seemed to barely be able to hold the enormity of memories that must have piled up behind it over the past decades, bending and curving itself in an effort to desperately prevent them from slipping through and being lost forever. He smiled at his own musings and fished for the key.

It took him longer than he expected to actually turn the lock. He became somewhat annoyed and for the hundredth time wondered why anyone would even bother locking the door. The unused hinges made a creepy sound as he pushed against the surface and took his first step in. The place instantly felt familiar, warm and inviting, catching him off guard. How well did he recall his early childhood when he would spend days on end in his granddad's care while his parents were constantly working, trying to make a name for themselves and a better future for their son? He didn't think he remembered much, but just the smell and the feel of the place seemed to have brought up an avalanche of emotions, some of which he could swear were not his. Yes, there was a memory of him riding a bike around the coffee table because it was too cold to go out, or eating ice-cream in front of the TV, sharing his newest gossips with his granddad who had developed an uncanny interest in his small community in his older age, or playing with his Aunt Leah's art supply, knowing she'd be angry when she comes back from the shops, but feeling positive that she'd forget all about it once she sees how he used it to make his granddad look prettier in his sleep. Yes, those were the memories he was certain were his, but there were also those that made him feel loved, cherished, worthy, betrayed, discarded, afraid, hurting , a vicious cycle that seemed to have plagued him his whole life, and he knew, he knew that it couldn't have been him who had gotten through them. This was a person whose heart had been broken into innumerable tiny pieces, the shreds as sharp as a shuttered glass, slicing and pealing a new layer of his soul with every breath he took. Whatever happened to this man, left him with a shallow version on himself, and he wondered how much courage and strength it took for him to keep on living.

Jay didn't think it strange when his feet moved on their own, and when, without the slightest guidance he managed to find himself in the upstairs bedroom, opening a huge box he had gotten from the top shelf of the walk-in closet. He knew what he would find before he even had the chance to take his first look. Letters, so many of them, all organized in these little folders and each with one single name written across it – Brendan. There was no address, no dates, nothing but the name.

Choosing the most illuminated spot in the room, Jay sat on a dusty floor and went for the first pile of letters that looked the oldest.

 _*I sent you another visitation order. I don't know why I even bother. I know you won't let me see you, and that you think it's for the best, but it isn't. You know me, Brendan, better than anyone. You know I can't let this go. I can't let you go! I won't!  
I'm miserable without you! I lie awake at night and I think about the way you used to look at me, like I was your whole world, or touch me like you couldn't have enough of me, the way you used to speak to me bearing your soul, knowing that I was worthy of your trust, the way you would listen to my stupid voice and pretend like it was calming you down, the way you used to fight to keep me alive, and I can't…I can't believe you'd think I could have that with someone else. I will never be over you, Brendan. Never. *_

Jay put the paper down, the story his Nan told him that morning over breakfast now making much more sense. These had to be the letters his granddad wrote to Brendan Brady, the criminal he was involved with at the time when he committed a number of murders and ended up in prison for life. According to her, this man, although homophobic, abusive and altogether nasty, was the love of Steven Hay's life. He couldn't understand why, though. Why would anyone want to stay in a relationship where he was beaten, belittled and kept a secret? But his Nun told him that although their relationship started that way, Brendan later on changed. He even lived with Steven and the kids before he was charged and taken to prison. She also told him how they went through a horrific experience together when an ex police officer, hell-bent on revenge, tried to kill both Steven and Brendan's son. Brendan supposedly jumped in front of a gun, even though he was barely out of the hospital himself, ready to take the bullet for Steven. There was no doubt he loved him, said his Nan, but Brendan Brady was never going to be a good man, she argued. Not even for Steven. That's why he ended up killing his own father. Some people just couldn't be saved.

The next letter he picked up was a bit rumpled, and looked like it had been handled a few times before being piled with the others. This one was shorter, angrier, but just as emotional.

 _*I told someone yesterday that I don't want to see your stupid mustached face ever again. I lied. I'd give anything to be able to lay my eyes on you again. I'm so lost without you. I do stupid things, I get drunk off my face and I ... I don't want you to know what I did. I don't even know why I did it. I miss you!*_

And then there were others. Jay started going through them, reading a couple of sentences from each.

 _*Cheryl lives in a proper castle now. Nate is still a twat but he loves her. They are planning a family of their own, and I want to be happy for them, I do, but I can't, because every time I look at her happy face I'm reminded of how much that happiness cost us, cost you. I don't think I will be seeing her again. I'm sorry.*_

 _*Doug wants me to keep the deli running, but I have a better idea. I want our club back and I'll do all I can to get it. I'll make you proud, you'll see.*_

Wasn't Doug his granddad's first husband? So he met him after Brendan? But then, how would Brendan know of him. Something didn'tadd up here. Jay needed to find out more, so he kept reading.

 _*I messed up. Big time. I don't want to be selling drugs, but I'm in too deep. I wish you were here. You'd know what to do. You always knew what to do. *_

 _*I woke up in a hospital bed today. All bruises and broken ribs. It feels like the old days. Why is it that even when I try to do the right thing, I end up being hurt? You once told me that I was a good man, and that I didn't deserve the beatings and the pain. Where are you to tell me that again? Why can't you just let me see you?*_

 _*My mom is dead. I killed her. I bet you wish you knew more, why I did it. Well, you can't , can you? Because you don't want to be a part of my life anymore. You left me, and I'm all alone. You know how much being alone hurts, Brendan, more than anyone. Why would you do that to me? Why would you confess to 5 murders?  
Did you really kill your Nan? She knew, didn't she? And she never did anything to stop him. She let him hurt you over and over again. I'm not that stupid, Brendan. I figured it out. I thought I wanted my mother dead too, because she could have stopped Terry, she just never cared enough to try. I still love her, though. She's my mum. And I still, stupidly, love you! Be safe, Brendan!*_

 _*Doug is gone too, but unlike you, he didn't choose to leave me. He was taken away from me like every good thing that I ever had. And he was the best thing that ever happened to me, while you were the worst. So why do I still love you? Loving you ruined me, made me weak, pathetic, spiteful and bitter. But no matter what you do, or how much you hurt me, I still can't stop.  
I would have spent my whole life with Doug if I had been given a chance. Before he died, he told me he knew he was never my first choice and that I would always have chosen you. The saddest thing is that I probably would have, but I didn't tell him so, because you are my past Brendan, and I need to burry you just like I buried my future along with Doug.*_

 _*Would you believe that I have a dad? And a family of 3 sisters? You would like Leela, she's feisty. Perry would probably fall in love with you, like our Leah, but Tegan, I don't know about her. You would have to work your Irish charm on her. I don't think you'd like my dad, though. Or he you. I guess closeted gay married man don't usually see eye to eye with one another. He's seeing John Paul of all people. Well, he said he ended it, but I don't really believe him. He's my dad, and he seems to want to try to make it up to me, so I'm trying really hard to stay a part of this family, but I can't just sit aside and watch him tear it apart.*_

Jay knew of John Paul. He was his granddad's second husband, but the marriage never lasted. They did remain friends, well, sort of. Most of the time, he remembered his granddad having a go at John Paul or telling him that he was not allowed to meddle in his life anymore. He didn't know what his granddad meant at the time, but that didn't stop him from kicking the man on the shin whenever he saw him. Maybe seeing the brightest of smiles on his granddad's face and getting to choose his favourite sweets after each of these little lash-outs had something to do with it. No wonder their relationship was strained if the guy actually slept with his great-granddad as well. How messed up was that?

 _*Remember how I told you that I've got my dad back into my life? Not anymore. Is everyone who I ever get close to going to die or leave me? You were prepared to die too. Sometimes I think it is the easier way out.*_

 _*I sent another visitation order today. I needed to see you so badly. You could have taken the pain away, but just like always, you said no. I need someone to help me pull through this. Why can't it be you?*_

 _*John Paul got down on his knee, right there in the open, and proposed. I don't know what he sees in me, really. We are so different, but he believed in me and helped me when no one else would, and I want to be the man he needs me to be, so I said 'Yes'.*_

 _*Well, rehab downright sucks. I don't want to be here, but if I leave, I lose everything. Being 'locked up' in here only makes me think more of how hard it must be for you, knowing that there never will be a way out. Except, there is. You can always tell the truth, Brendan. No jury in the world would ever convict your sister for what she did, even if it was her own father. Think about it, will ya?*  
_

Did this mean that Brendan wasn't the one who pulled the trigger? His sister was? But why? Jay wanted to know so desperately. What happened to make one of the Brady siblings commit and the other cover up the murder of their own father?

 _*I got married and found out on the same day that I fathered a child with my best friend. Sinead just blurted it out right after the ceremony. I am so afraid that I might lose them both. I think they both hate me right now, and rightly so. I need to make this better.*  
_

 _*Sinead asked me about you today. I pretended I wouldn't be hurt by the mention, just so that I could keep her talking. I needed someone else to say your name, so that I would have at least some proof that you actually existed, that I hadn't made you up in my head. Every day I think about you. If it's a bad day, I think of the things you'd do to make it all better. If it's a good day, I think about how we had so few of them but that we enjoyed every second as if we knew that the last one would be just around the corner. I would take all our fights and all the pain all over again if I could only have one more day with you._

 _*I've got HIV, Brendan. I know what you're thinking, right? That I was stupid enough to let it happen, that I was careless and selfish, and you're right! I barely remember the bloke. He was supposed to be some random. I was so completely off my face that I never even thought about protection. I had a person tell me today that it was just a matter of time before I get it, because I'm gay. But that wasn't it, was it? I think it's just me. These things just happen to me. Am I being punished?*_

* _I have another baby girl, Brendan! Our Hannah is gorgeous. I hope you get to meet her one day._ *

* _My marriage to JP is over, Sinead left me and took my daughter with her. I might never see them again, and all because of a teenage boy. I messed up as usual. But I think I might love him, like really love him. And I guess I know why. He's the first person after you've left me who doesn't treat me as someone who needs saving, like I'm a ticking bomb that might explode any minute. He doesn't think I'm weak, or stupid, diseased or a failure. He sees me as something more, someone that only you were able to see underneath all of my imperfections. He makes me miss you just that tiny bit less._ *

* _Brendan, I will never be able to forgive you for walking away from what we had without a fight, without first giving us a chance but, maybe, just maybe I might be able to understand you a bit better now. I look at Harry and all I see is his youth, the opportunities that are there for him to take and that he will miss out on if he stays with me. For the first time in my life, I have to stop being selfish and do something for someone else's good. He's already missed two years of college because he didn't want to leave Hollyoaks, leave me. I need to make him do it. I need to break his heart so that he would find a reason to move on and one day meet a guy who'd give him a future he deserves. It feels so punishingly hard letting him go. Is that how you felt when you let me go? Because I am telling you right now, no matter how much I love him, I'd never be able to love anyone else as strongly as I loved you, as I still love you. And if it were you that I needed to let go of, I'd never be able to do it; even for your own good, because my love for you is just, well, selfish. But, is it really that selfish if all I wanna do is just try and never give up on you? Years won't change how I feel, Brendan, the whole life won't change it either. I don't think death even will._ *

Jay pushed the letters away, like they were physically hurting him just by being in such a close proximity. He didn't want to read them anymore. He had gone through only one of the folders and already felt emotionally drained. And there were so many more of them in there, hundreds of them. A man's whole life was in those letters, a frightening record of a loss that his granddad had never really recovered from. Thousands of contained words scrabbled in haste and unruly handwriting over now yellowing pieces of paper, words of love, hate, pain and misery, of pent up anger, of happiness, of hope, of desperation, of devotion, and lastly, hopefully, of forgiveness.

He wanted to find the last letter ever written, to read his granddad's last words to the man he couldn't stop loving, so he emptied the whole box on the floor and started rummaging through the contents. There were other things in it beside the letters: golden rings, a stained apron, a lock of hair, a silver circle cross pendant dangling from a chain, a child's family drawing of two men, each holding a child's hand, the older man with a distinctive mustache above his lip, a 2013 air ticket to Dublin, a funny looking giraffe thing and two small plastic things which suspiciously looked like old flash drive sticks. Jay hadn't seen one in ages. He wasn't even sure they still made them.

Intrigued with what he might find on them, he quickly ran downstairs to see whether he could find an old laptop, a tablet or any other device that still supported the USB interface. After almost losing all his hope of finding one, along with his patience, he opened one of the old cabinets and found a laptop still attached to the charger. He debated whether to plug it in right then and there, or get back upstairs and give himself some time to calm down. Too curious to even attempt it, he just sat on the nearest sofa and waited for some sigh of life. As expected, the old thing took its time to power up, but once it did, Jay cautiously connected the flash drive and waited to see what was so important for his granddad to be hiding on a data storage unit. The only thing on it was a video recording which Jay played right away.

His granddad's flailed body was connected to all kinds of tubes and you could see that he was having difficulty breathing on his own. Nevertheless, there was a smile on his face. He was looking at the person holding what must have been some sort of a camera and putting up a brave face. He used his hands to push his body up, and even that small of an effort brought on a fearsome coughing fit.

"What are you doing, exhausting yourself like that?"

Jay heard a woman's worried voice and in the next moment saw a younger version of his aunt Leah rushing toward the bed and putting a pillow behind her father's back.

"I want him to see me, don't I? What's the point of making this video for him if he doesn't see my face while I'm talking to him? And I'm fine now. It passes as quick as it starts," he smiled weakly at his daughter.

"Just don't overdo it, ok? I'm here if you need anything."

"I know, love. You always have been."

"Are you ready?" He looked at the camera then, and the person behind it responded.

"I am, dad, you can start now. "

His granddad took a large breath, smiled one of his trademark lopsided smiles, end started talking.

"Hi Jay. Your mum told me that you've got the flu and that fever is making you hurt all over. I am so sorry, champ. But it will be over soon, I promise you. Please don't cry because you weren't able to come and see me these last couple of days. Your dad says that you are worried the doctors are not taking a good care of me while you're not here. But they are. Your aunt Leah has got them all under her thumb, believe me. So, be a good lad, and listen to your mum, and we'll be out playing footy together in no time, ok?"

He made and involuntary pause there, catching another lungful of air.

"And, yeah, your dad brought me your favourite giraffe to keep me safe. You must miss it so. I promise to give it back as soon as we see each other again. I miss you too and I love you! Stay safe, my little boy."

There were tears in his eyes when he finished, and Lucas, who had been recording the video must have started shaking because the picture became all blurry. After a few seconds Jay saw his father approach his granddad's hospital bed, saying an almost silent 'Thank you' and placing a kiss on the man's forehead. The picture was now even clearer than before. Lucas must have placed the camera on the nearby stand and forgot he left it on.

"That was an awesome thing you did for him, dad." Jay's father spoke. "He wanted to come here today so badly that Margaret had to tell him you were feeling poorly, and that it was not good for you to be around someone with a high fever. He felt terrible after that, so we promised him a video."

"I wanted him to be here too, but I don't think I would have had it in me to look him straight in eyes and lie. It's better like this. "

"Don't be like that," Leah interrupted.

"But I'm right and you know I am. I don't have much left, love, but I'm okay with it."

"How can you be, though? You're still so young. You can fight this infection off like you did the others," she was almost pleading with him now, like it actually depended on him whether he lived or died.

"None of them were as bad as this one, though, and even if I did, I'd probably need a ventilator to be able to breathe. I don't want that. I want to die in peace. With the ones I love beside me."

He placed his hands over their own and gave them a reassuring squeeze. There wasn't much power behind it, the earlier performance for his grandson leaving him looking even more sallow and gaunt than before. His delicate features still lent an air of refinement to his face, an effect that was highlighted by a shock of thick golden brown hair falling over his pale forehead. He looked so young, childlike even.

Jay could see his aunt's eyes filling with even more tears and that she was struggling really hard to keep her emotions in check. She always pretended to be so strong but he knew how much she loved her father and seeing him like this, a shadow of his former self, must have been breaking her heart.

She abruptly jumped out of the chair she was sitting in, as if her father's words reminded her of something very important, something she needed to take care of. This new purpose guiding her, she turned to her brother,

"Lucas, can you go and get me a cup of coffee of something?"

When he proved reluctant to leave, she gently took his hand into hers and led him through the door, all the while whispering some quick explanation that her brother seemed to be taking with a shocked expression on his face.

When she finally went back in, Jay almost missed his granddad's next words, his voice was so weak.

"What was that all about?"

She was still standing by the door, apparently not planning on coming further into the room.

"Dad, do you remember when I was a teenager how I used to joke that I was losing daddies like shoes, what with you and mum never really settling with anyone for too long?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I don't remember many of them, actually, but there is one man I was never able to forget, and only because I'd never seen you happier than when you were with him."

"Where are you going with this, Leah?" Jay could hear the panic in Steven's voice now.

"I had to pull a lot of strings, and I had probably broken a law or two in the process, but … I know what he meant to you, to us, and I wanted you to have this before you go, so…"

She suddenly turned around and pushed the door out.

"Leah, what have you done? Where are you going?"

The coughing took over again and a nurse rushed into the room, giving him something to calm down. He appeared so fragile lying there in the stark white bed, his eyes half closed, the infusion dripping medicine into his forearm. All Jay wanted to do was push through the screen, take him in his arms and tell him that everything would be fine. Except, he knew that nothing would be fine after that day and that he never got to see his granddad ever again.

There was a lot of shuffling from outside of the room before a tall figure of a man appeared at the door. Jay could hear a gasping sound escaping his granddad's lips, and he was again struggling to breathe. Somehow, Jay didn't think his lung condition had anything to do with it.

"Hello Steven!"

The figure was standing there nervously, changing his footing from one side to the other, his movements jerky, fingers twitching as if he was playing a piano. Jay tried to focus on the man's face, trying to figure out who he could be, but the thick salt and pepper beard obscured most of the man's features, while the wild strands of grey hair covered the rest, leaving only a glimpse of his piercing blue eyes.  
Jay was so thoroughly captivated by them, that when he heard his granddad's voice it startled him so much, he almost jumped from the sofa.

"If I had any strength left in me, I would pick the first next thing and throw it at you. Don't you 'Hallo Steven' me!"

Wait, what? Jay surely hadn't expected that. Was his granddad not pleased to see this person? Why would have his aunt brought him there, then?

"Feisty as always, Steven. That's what I've always loved about you." The man's mouth twisted in an awkward smile.

"Can I?" He gestured towards the patient, apparently needing to ask for permission before getting closer. After a barely perceptible nod from the other man, he reluctantly crossed the small distance and set in the same chair Leah had vacated a few moments before.

"I didn't know. I swear I didn't," he said. Jay barely caught the words, they were so quiet.

"You would have, If you had let me see you." There was an unmistakable accusation in his granddad's tone.

Neither men were really making eye contact. Their heads were held low, chins almost touching the chests.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. You were young, you had your whole life in front of you. I wanted you to live it."

"I tried." The anger with which his granddad greeted the stranger was now completely gone. Instead he looked more defeated than anything. "But I was never as strong as you, Brendan."

Of course it was him. Who else was it ever going to be? Even if he hadn't just heard the confirmation, Jay would have known that the person hunched down beside his granddad's bed was none other than the infamous Brendan Brady, the hard core criminal, the drug pusher, the 5 time killer, except, he didn't look anything like it. There sat a broken man, a man who knew that he had made mistakes, and that because of them, even if more than 20 years later, another life would be taken.

"That's just it, Steven, I never was. Me being weak is what cost us our life together."

"So, you think we would have made it? The pair of us?" Came the timid question.

"I know we would have." Jay saw Brendan's hand sneak on the bed, cautiously taking hold of his granddad's. As soon as the contact was made, both of their heads shot up, and they finally looked at each other. He could see an array of emotions playing havoc on their faces, and that this little reunion affected them so strongly that they were barely holding it together.

" I wanted to change, Steven, so much. I wouldn't have for anyone else. It's only because it was you. "

"I once said those same words to you," his granddad smirked.

"I remember," the man said, and then lowered his head, gently making their foreheads meet. " I remember everything."

Jay saw the dying man close his eyes briefly, as if trying to bring those same memories back, daring to take that last chance to relive them now that his loved one was finally by his side. Brendan took the opportunity to trace his lips over his lover's eyelids, tasting the saltiness of the unshed tears.

"Did you miss me?"

The vulnerability with which his granddad asked those words seemed to have broken another barrier in the older man's shell, as he let out a small breath and a lonely tear rolled down his face.

"Every day," he answered, fighting through his emotions.

" I thought you might have forgotten all about me."

"Every day til I'm in my grave, Steven. I meant that."

Jay saw his granddad gulping as much air as he could, gathering whatever strength was still left in his failing body, and with his hands on each side of the older man's face, he made him look into his eyes again, and said: "I never stopped loving you. "

" Tell me something I don't know." The man was desperate to keep the smile on his face, but Jay almost felt his body shaking with sobs he was trying to hold back.

" You cheeky sod, " he heard his granddad's soft laugh. The medication must have started to kick in, because his whole body virtually sagged back into the sheets, the gust with which he made his last move completely gone, and yet his hands still firmly holding the other man.

"I love you too, Steven," Brendan rushed the words out, as if afraid that if he didn't say them at that very moment, his lover might not be there to hear them ever again, "that has never changed, and it never will." He emphasized his words by pressing his mouth hard against the younger man's, then slowing the kiss down to a couple of small pecks before pulling back, but not without catching his lower lip and tugging at it, almost playfully.

The biggest smile Jay ever saw took over his granddad's face, lasting for only a few fleeting seconds before the drugs took over and he fell into a deep sleep.

Brendan just sat there watching him sleep, still holding his hand, his thumb drawing little circles on it. With his other hand he removed a wild strand of hair that fell over his lover's closed eyes, then traced his fingers lightly over the cheekbone, ending his little journey with a slight pinch of the chin. The adoring expression on his face was so unmistakably honest, the emotions paying on it so fierce that all Jay could think of was how lucky his granddad was to have someone love him that much.

"Sir, it's time." Two armed officers appeared at the door, alerting the man back to his feet in an instant. He turned to the door, made a few steps, but then just stood there, resisting the howl that was fighting to escape his parted lips. To Jay, it seemed that if the man lost the tight hold he seemed to have over himself, he would be screaming his lungs out.

Instead, Brendan turned and gave his granddad one last gentle look and whispered,

"See you in the next life, Steven," and then quickly left the room.

Lucas and Leah were back inside, not really doing anything, just sitting by the bed, both lost in their thoughts, both obviously affected by the whole scene that had taken place a few moments earlier. They must have been listening to their exchange. Lucas broke the silence first.

"Did you really have to do that?"

" I gave them a chance to say goodbye to each other, Lucas. "

"The man just lost it with the officers outside. "

"He what?"

"Yeah. He just started kicking and punching. They had to drag him out."

"He'll be even worse once dad is really gone," she said with so much conviction. "You don't remember this but, that man… that man meant everything to our dad. They loved each other so much. We loved him. We were a proper family once. When he lost him, dad's whole world came crumbing down. He never really learned how to live with the loss."

" I remember some of it. The mustached man used to read us bedtime stories in that scary voice of his. It took me ages to fall asleep after them."

"Yeah, yeah he did," Leah was crying again.

"I wish I remembered more. "

Jay saw his dad approach the stand to get a glass of water, and then as if just realizing that he had left the camera on, he went for it and obviously tuned it off.

Jay just sat there on the floor, completely overwhelmed by what he had just witnessed. The letters he had spent most of that morning reading now made much more sense, but what didn't was this feeling of actually being there in that hospital room, hearing those words firsthand, knowing how much it hurt to see his lover again, yet grateful for having been given a chance to do so before he died. Jay had these vivid images, almost like memories, of Brendan standing on some bridge, beckoning him to come closer so that he could give him a kiss, of the same man holding him tightly after he found out that his kinds might have been hurt in a fire, of him fighting with another man with a gun and then throwing himself in front of it to protect him, of them baking a bread together, kissing under a mistletoe, making love in a random hotel room, signing a contact, having a quiet night in with kids…. So many flashbacks, so many recollections, and none of them were his. He couldn't understand how he could see them so clearly, feel them, taste them, smell them. Was Brendan the person Jay had been dreaming and having visions of ever since his accident? And if so, why?

He had always believed that this dream figure was waiting for him to find her. He couldn't exactly articulate why, beyond the fact that it just felt like that was his mission, but what he now realized was that this whole time he'd been fantasizing about a man, and not just any man, but the one who had been his granddad's lover. He propped his head in his hands and massaged his fingers into his throbbing temples. He needed to figure this out. There had to be a reason. He needed more information. He needed to know what happened to Brendan. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and after a minute of debating whether to do it or not, dialed the number.

"Aunt Leah? I need to see you! I should be back in London by this afternoon."

He listened intently to his aunt's reply, not really pleased with what she was saying.

"Can we meet first thing tomorrow, then? … No, nothing is wrong. I just need to talk to you about something. … No, not over the phone. … Great, I'll be there. … Thanks! See you tomorrow morning!"

He felt relived, like he had accomplished something. He was certain that he was making progress, that he was taking those steps he always knew he'd need to make to get to the destiny that was waiting for him.

***  
After a lot of explaining of why he wouldn't be staying with his Nan longer, a quick trip back to London, and fitful night's sleep, Jay was now sitting at one of his aunt's favourite coffee shops, sipping his tea and waiting for her reaction. He had spent the last 10 minutes talking non-stop about his granddad, Brendan Brady, the letters, the video, the odd things he found in that box. He told her about it all, except how real and familiar it all felt to him. He didn't want to freak her out even more. By the look on her face Jay could tell that this must have brought back some very painful memories and that she didn't really feel comfortable talking about them, so he sat there patiently, not sure what to expect.

She took a long look around her, tucked a lock of hair that fell out of place nervously behind her ear and leaned forward.

"I don't know if there is anything that I can tell you that you don't already know. "

"Did you stay in contact with Brendan after granddad died?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"What happened to him?"

"He got released from prison a few years after. He finally let his sister hire a lawyer and they proved in court that Brendan couldn't have committed any of the other murders, except for his father's. Since he had already served that sentence, they let him out."

" Was he really not responsible for them?"

"I don't know. But I also know he wasn't the one who shot his father."

" How can you be so certain?"

"You didn't check the other flash drive that was in that box, did you?"

"No, but I have it with me."

"Do me a favour, and don't watch the video that is on it."

"Why?"

"Because you don't want to know why Seamus Brady was murdered, trust me. "

"What does it have to do with who shot him, though?"

"It has everything to do with it. Trust me on this one, ok baby?" Jay could see she was starting to panic again, so he quickly agreed,

"Ok. So where did he go after prison?"

"Back to Dublin. He inherited his father's pub. Decided to renovate the place, opened a B&B above it as well. Named it Stendan."

"What kind of a name is that?"

"That's what I asked too, "she was smiling now. "He just said that it made sense to him. He was always weird like that. Especially with names."

"Yeah, I imagine so."

"Anyway, after a year of running it, he got some girl from America, Mitzee something, come and take over. She's the granddaughter of Anne Minniver, one of his only real friends. As far as I know, she 's still the manager there."

"And Brendan?"

"He went to stay with Father Des at a parochial house near Hollyoaks. Said he wanted to be close to Steven when he died. A couple of months later his heart gave up on him. It was just a matter of time, anyway. He wasn't coping well with your granddad's death."

"So, that means there's no way for me to meet him, to talk to him," Jay said disappointedly.

"No, honey. But, why would you even want to?"

" I don't know. I just thought that once I talked to him things would be easier to understand."

"What things? Jay, darling, you are not making much sense."

"Yeah, well, when do I ever?", he gave her a feeble attempt of a smile. "Do you think it would be possible to visit this pub in Dublin, stay there for a couple of days or something?"

"Sure. You can book the room on line. I can try getting in contact with this Mitzee person if you want me too."

"No. I'd rather do it myself. And I need to check with Mikey first. I promised to visit him in Dublin over the summer anyway, so I might as well use the opportunity."

Mikey was the only person Jay ever felt close to that wasn't family. They'd been friends for almost 20 years, had their ups and downs, especially after the accident, but no matter how hard things were, or how difficult Jay became, he never managed to push Mikey away. They hardly ever left each other's side before Mikey got accepted to Trinity last year and moved to Ireland. They hadn't seen each other since. Jay promised to go and visit but he never managed to find time. He wasn't really keen on staying with Mikey's roomies, either, and although he could afford a hotel room, Mikey always insisted on him staying at their shared flat. Now, he had an excuse for staying at this B&B place. He could say that it was all a part of this research for the paper he was writing. Brilliant, he now had a plan and in a day or two, he'll be on his way to Dublin.

*** Please let me know what you think so far.  
*** Our boys should meet in the next chapter, if all goes well . :D


	4. The Bullet

*** I know I said the boys would meet in this chapter, and they will, but I had to split it up as it proved to be too long. I will post the second part later today, possibly the first thing tomorrow morning, depending on how soon I finish with editing and proofreading.

*** Please take notice that while Jay already knows a lot about the original Stendan relationship, Brendan is clueless. The only thing he knows is what the boy from his nightmares decided to share, which wasn't much. The years of lusting over Steven have shaped him into what he is today, and it will play a crucial part once they finally meet. However, I wanted him to be as experienced as the real Brendan Brady was, a master of seduction and to achieve that, I needed him to be with other men. Please don't reject the idea right away. I promise you, he will be thinking of Steven all the way through.

XXX

Brendan's room was the last in the long 'L' shaped corridor, somewhat isolated, directly adjacent to only one other, smaller room which was hardly ever rented out to anyone. He preferred it that way, the fact that other occupants were not likely to pass by and meddle in his own affairs. It was a privacy he couldn't afford as a child. Being institutionalized meant that he was either under constant observation or, if he was feeling better, being grouped with complete strangers who had also been torn away from their families and were at different stages of various mental illnesses. For a smart boy like Brendan that was torture.

Most of the time he didn't really have anyone to talk to, beside the doctors who were only ever interested in the trauma he was never going to reveal, because that wasn't his story to tell. At rare times when he was lucky enough, the little boy in his mind would seek him out during the day and they would confide in each other, exchange their plans on how to escape the lives they were cruelly trapped in. As they grew together, they both became hardened by the circumstances into which they were born. They were tough, young men who learned how to hide their true selves behind the walls of slippery masks and cold superiority.

Brendan conjured this dangerous persona, this image of a bad boy, for the sole purpose of keeping people away, of protecting himself from others, from their prying eyes. He didn't want anyone to get close enough to see what was really going on inside him. Strangely, this past year the effect was almost completely opposite. There was no hiding how damaged he was, constantly on edge, constantly struggling to keep it together, but that only seemed to attract certain kind of people, people he now had a hard time getting rid of.

It'd been slightly over a year since he had left his family back in Belfast and started living on his own. He fought the decision for months after his baby girl was born, doing everything possible to remain by his wife's side, but the harder he tried, the guiltier he felt, because ever since that night he dreamt of being shot and dying, he couldn't get the image of the man he was dying for out of his mind. Steven and his full blown smile, his sandy hair, electric blue eyes, soft inviting lips and beautifully fragile heart, was occupying his every thought and he couldn't stand it. It was killing him that he spent years dreaming about him, enjoying this man's every little curve and arch, worshiping his body, coveting it like the worst possible sin. It never occurred to him that it could have been a man he was envisioning. The realization hit him hard.

The new flood of memories that was triggered by that last nightmare made things even worse. Whenever Brendan came even close to his wife after bringing her home from the hospital, whenever he tried to put his arms around her, kiss her or comfort her after a difficult night, a kind of coldness would run through him arousing this need to push her away and, more times than not, leave the room. Night after night he could hear her cry herself to sleep and each time he wished he was man enough to come to her, hold her and tell her that everything was going to be fine, that it was just a phase they were going through. But he couldn't do it. Instead he would storm out, find the first pub and drink himself into oblivion.

After a month had past, his grandmother got wind of his shameful behavior and tried pressuring him into getting some help. So, he tried. The counselor he got assign to was a nice old lady that he ended up shocking after drunkenly blurting out at one of their sessions that he thought he was attracted to men now. But her professionalism took over soon after and she just advised him to go home and think about what he had admitted to her. These feelings didn't appear out the blue, she told him, there had to be earlier signs. Maybe he was suppressing his true self because he was afraid of rejection, of being hurt. He almost laughed at her. He hadn't been doing much else his whole life than hiding who he really was, but not because he thought he was gay, but because he thought he was mental, and that if others knew, this time they'd lock him up for good and through away the key.

But he did go home that night, and he didn't drink, he didn't skip his medication, he didn't cause a scene. He went to his daughter's crib, held her tightly in his arms and told her that he would never let anyone ruin the innocence with which she was born, that she would always have him to drive the monsters away and that she never ever needed to be afraid of anyone, or anything.

There never was a next session and Brendan never saw the counselor again. She was right, through. There were earlier signs, but Brendan never saw them as such. When he was about 17 there was this boy at school that loved fallowing Brendan and his crew around, although they never gave him the time of day. He never minded, he was just happy with what he got, which was a few party invites a year and an occasional night out with the boys. At one such occasion the boy had too much to drink and stupidly confessed to everyone that he had a crush on Brendan. Although he was openly gay, and that shouldn't have surprised anyone, it made Brendan more uncomfortable than he liked to admit. Trying to cover that up, like any other emotion he ever had, Brendan started picking on the guy - nothing physical, just little taunts here and there. He remembered cornering him a couple of times, playing with him, getting nearer and nearer, acting all intimidating but then pretending he wanted to kiss him, and just before he did, he would pull away and smirk: 'Gotcha! You didn't really think I was gonna kiss ya, did ya?' He enjoyed doing that so much, his friends jokingly called him a tease. He was so certain in his masculinity back then that he never even thought about it as something alarming. Now he wasn't so sure. He shouldn't have taken such a pleasure in pushing that boy's limits so much.

Then he thought what if he made an experiment? Went out to a gay bar, tried to pick some random bloke up, just to see what would happen, how he would react. The idea didn't sound very appealing to him, but it was either that, or going back to the counselor lady for another embarrassing heart to heart. Always up for a good challenge, and with a new enthusiasm guiding him, Brendan dressed himself in record time, spiked his hair up with some gel (Katy once told him that the style made his eyes stand out), and slipped on a pair of aviator glasses. He thought about doing something about the stubble but gave up on the idea in favour of saving time and useless effort - it would be back in less than a day anyway. He stood in front of the mirror, giving himself a once-over. That was as good it was going to get, so he grabbed his wallet, the keys and his vintage leather jacket and rushed his way out of the house.

XXX

The bar was cluttered with men. They were pressed against each other like sardines, filling the venue from wall to wall. The air felt sultry and heated, but he doubted anyone even noticed, half of them with barely any clothes on. It looked ridiculous to Brendan, this forced closeness and intimacy. Feeling a bit awkward and strange, he almost turned around and left, especially when he saw two men kissing close by the entrance, but he changed his mind instantly. He said he was going to try this, and he wasn't a coward.

A fireman bumped into him from behind and a doctor caught him before he had a chance to fall, asking him if he needed his pulse checked, but before he had any time to even think about answering, the good doctor was dragged away by what must have been a pilot. Brendan almost started believing that he finally lost what little sanity he had left, when he realized that, apparently it was a themed party. A flashy 'Men in Uniforms' banner was hanging from the ceiling, with loads of inflated condoms sticking out from all directions. He shook his head in disbelief but, nevertheless, took a few careful steps towards the bar. That was exactly how far he'd gotten before another guy bumped into him. This one was, however, all smiles and dirty looks.

"I love the undercover cop thing. It suits you."

Brendan almost corrected the guy, telling him that this was how he actually liked to dress, but saw no point in doing that. Instead, he took a closer look at the man's exposed body, covered only in thin white pants.

"And what are you supposed to be?" He was genuinely curious.

The guy broke into what he must have thought was a seductive dance, and swirling his body around Brendan, gave him a very proud : "Well, I was a sailor up until those boys over there took my hat and my shirt off. Now I'm just a shirtless man in a pajama bottom. Like what you see?"

He actually winked at Brendan who, to his own astonishment, felt quite comfortable with the attention he was getting. He never could get enough of that feeling of being wanted, probably because he had been rejected by the ones he loved throughout his life. He gave the guy a closer inspection. Tight muscles, decent hair, nice smile, but he couldn't determine whether there was anything about him that would make Brendan want to even touch him, let alone do the things he so desperately wanted to do every time Steven walked into his dreams.

"Let me get back to you on that."

The man didn't look discouraged. "I'm Tom, by the way."

"Well, hello sailor, or whatever is left of you." Brendan dropped his eyes to the guy's scarcely covered lower body. He liked this. He was good at this, the verbal exchange. He loved using words as weapons, as means to achieve whatever goal he was striving for. As long as he didn't have to talk about himself, he'd be fine and he decided he might as well have some fun while he was at it.

"There is enough of me left, believe me!" The man appeared as if melting, his movements so fluid, his hips parading around Brendan's, one of his hands making an almost involuntary contact with his left thigh. Strangely, Brendan didn't really find anything wrong with that.

"Don't you have a name? Or is that confidential?" Tom purred into his ear.

"You can call me Benjamin." No one ever called him by his first name, so Brendan felt safe giving it away. The man's reaction startled him.

"Ha,ha, ha, no way! You could have come up with a better name, you know?" The guy couldn't stop laughing. "Well, officer Benji, care to join me and my ship crew over there for a drink or two?

The guy was obviously flirting with him. Brendan didn't find it disgusting, weird or uncomfortable, well not yet anyway, but he also didn't feel that pull, the vibe he was hoping for. As typically attractive as this Tom was, he wasn't really doing anything for him. Maybe he just wasn't his type. Then he thought maybe he didn't really have a type and he was just wasting his time there. Just about ready to admit defeat and blow the guy off, he turned his head in a general direction of the group that he was invited to join, wanting to give them just a slight nod of acknowledgement before leaving altogether, when he caught sight of a guy further down the bar, his back to him, animatedly explaining something to his friends and laughing some sort of an awkward laugh that Brendan kind of felt drawn to. He pushed himself up from the stool and made his way to the group of men all in whites. The closer he came, the more he liked what he saw. The guy was young, fit, dirty blond and loud. What do you know? He did have a type.

Tom came behind him and started pushing him further into the inner circle.

"Guys, I have to ask you to behave tonight. We have a law enforcer among us, and although you might like being manhandled by him, I am sure we can leave that for the end of the party, ey?"

The dirty blond turned around then to see the new guy his friend was introducing and Brendon disappointedly noticed that the boy's eyes were green and not blue as he had expected. However, the chef's uniform he was wearing, together with a blue apron over it, made him forget all about the mismatch. It hugged the lean body in all the right places and Brendan had a vision of ripping it off the guy's body, pushing him over a floury kitchen top, and burying his head in the protruding pecs, licking his way further south. Where he got that scenario from, he wasn't really sure, but he liked how it played out in his head. It must have been evident what was going through his mind because once again Tom pushed into him and, and shaking his head in disapproval, turned from his friend to Brendan and back to his friend again, and then without an ounce of shame proclaimed:

"Well, I think it's obvious who's getting lucky tonight! And after all the effort I've made… "

Brendan just leaned his head to the side, a smug expression on his face, and with the slightest head movement pointed towards the back of the club, following it by a raspy ' _You coming?_ '  
That's all it took. The boy jumped from his place at the bar and started following Brendan without even giving it a single thought.

Brendan led the way with more certainty than he felt. Somehow he knew where the backrooms were, and what kind of an activity really took place there, but he had absolutely no plan. He was led by pure instinct. He still hadn't put his hands on the boy, hadn't even kissed him, yet his body was brimming with excitement. Although this was going to be his first time with a man, every fiber of his being was filled with so much drive, and every brain cell with so much information retained from his Steven related experiences, that he knew owning this boy's slight frame would be sensational.

As soon as they reached the inner walls of what seemed like the most secluded part of the bar, Brendan pushed the boy's body against the nearest one, and placed both of his hands on his torso. His concentration high, he mapped his upper body with his fingers, dragging them down with possibly a bit more force than needed. The boy's stomach muscles caved in when he reached them and he heard an involuntary gasp escaping his lips.

"Don't you want to at least know my name?"

Brendan put a finger against the plump lips to stop them talking, his other hand still exploring the rest of his body.

"That's not why I have you here. I'd rather get acquainted with what you are hiding under this," he pulled at the band that was hugging the boy's waist loosely.

As if he had been given a command the boy rushed to unbuckle his belt, grabbed hold of his zipper and tugged it forcefully down, giving Brendan a clear view of his now glistening, precum covered head. The man felt enticed by it, the scent from this dirty boy mixing with the more familiar scent of Steven's well used body, intoxicating him, making him lose all sense of propriety. He shifted closer between the boy's legs, wrapped his coarse hand around his length and tugged it out of the underwear. Hearing the boy hiss at his touch, Brendan leaned his head to the younger man's ear and hummed:

"You like that?"

He meant it as a statement, but it came out more as a question, so the boy just nodded his head enthusiastically and starred at the stranger with lusty, longing eyes that were desperate.

"Want me to taste ya?" He wanted this himself, memories of doing it to his dream man so vivid, that he could almost feel drool forming at the side of his month. He got an animalistic urge to devour the boy.

"Please!" The blond was whimpering with need.

"Begging, aren't ya? I like that." And he did, so much.

"Yes! Please, just do it."

Brendan instantly pulled away. "Are you asking, or ordering me now?"

"No, please, I didn't mean it like that. Do whatever you want with me. "

So eager! Brendan remembered how Steven would beg to be taken, moaning and squirming and telling him that he couldn't take it anymore, that he needed his lips on him. The images felt so real that just like that Brendan was on his knees, swallowing the nameless blond in one sucking slope.

The boy's back arched as he felt his length slide down the other man's throat in one single move, his reaction so strong his head hit against the surface behind him. His small grunt turned into a larger one, and was quickly followed by another, the stifled sounds he was making only driving Brendan further as he swallowed the tasty length fully, gagging a little in reflex but not stopping.

It was the boy's timid hands at the sides of his face and his breathy voice that had gotten him to finally slow down.

"I need you inside me, please!"

The boy's hair was all messed up, the loose strands covering most of his face, his features indistinguishable. His weaker frame was trapped against the wall and Brendan could feel a slight tremor overtaking the youth. It was so recognizable, this whole scene, the scared little rabbit he prayed on and corned into this badly lit underground nook with no windows, the steep steps leading into it, the door he locked to keep the rabbit from hopping away. Subconsciously he knew that what he was remembering had nothing to do with the pliant body that was now at his disposal, but he didn't care anymore. He needed this experience more than anything, because it nothing else, it would bring him closer to Steven.

So he turned the boy around, ordering him to place both of his hands on the wall, and bared his body below the waist. The beads of sweat that had gathered on the fine sheath of hair covering his legs drew an appreciative smile from the older man. He ran his palms over the texture, slowly gliding them towards the surprisingly smooth globes.

He fought the urge to just guide himself in there, satisfy this burning need inside of him. But he had never been like that, and this, this wasn't just about being pleasured, it was about giving it as well.  
He ghosted the fingers of his left hand over the puckered entrance before exposing the bundle of nerves to the cold air from between his lips, eliciting the dirties repertoire he'd ever heard from the boy's sinful mouth. He liked that. He wanted that - no restrains, no checks of conscience, just pure, uninhibited, uncontrolled rush of life and energy.

He grabbed the lube the blond had produced from his pocket, smeared what he believed was enough between his fingers, and then plunged two of them deep inside, curling them to hit the spot he somehow knew would drive the boy wild. It took only a few minutes before he started begging again, asking Brendan to replace his digits with his cock.

He released himself with one hand, bringing a small squared packet to his teeth with the other, effectively getting the condom and his shaft out as the same time. He sheeted himself within seconds and without much finesse trust inside. It looked savage, but he was certain it was the way the boy liked it, and was soon rewarded with another string of obscenities. Blasphemy never sounded more appropriate to him than then and there. His mind filled with another man's somewhat nasal voice that always turned to raspy, shallow gasps and pleas when he was entering him, and Brendan started shoving hard and fast, fisting one hand in the man's silky hair, pulling his head back for better leverage. The boy let go submissively, while Brendan's body spasmed and rocked as the pleasure inside increased and washed over him. With the thought of his dream lover still in his head, he grunted a beastly 'Fuck, Steven!' and filled the insides of the body beneath him.

It took a few moments for his panting to slow down but as soon as it did, he pushed himself roughly away from the blond and walked across the room, until he was facing the wall on the far side of it.

"Well, that was… different than I'd expected." The boy's words broke the awkward silence.

"Didn't rise up to your expectations, did I?"

"No, you absolutely exceeded them," the boy's smile was so big his back teeth were showing. Brendan liked that more than he should have.

"You only got one thing wrong."

"Yeah? And what's that?" There was hardly any interest in the question.

"My name is not Steven."

"What?" Brendan came dangerously close, the expression on his face hard. "What did you say?"

" That's what you called me," came the mousy reply. "That's not my name. It's actually.."

"I don't care!" Brendan stormed, interrupting him before he could even finish the sentence.

"Yeah, you do," the boy's voice was stronger now, the certainty of the truth behind the words powering it. "You have to after what we've just done. No one has sex like that and doesn't care. You like me."

"Listen kid," Brendon was tucking himself back inside his jeans and straightening his shirt with nervous, fast movements, "whatever you think happened here, it didn't. We were just blowing some steam off. There won't be a repeat performance."  
He moved to get his way up the stairs when a hand on his shoulder held him back.

"You don't mean that. I want to see you again. It doesn't have to be a commitment or anything. I don't do relationships either. Just let me get your number." He went to pull out his phone from the back pocket but Brendan stopped his hand midway, putting a bit more pressure to his squeeze, making the younger man squeal in pain.

"I don't think I made myself clear. This doesn't happen again. End of."

"But, I…"

"Trust me, kid, you've dogged the bullet here."

The boy was just left standing there, stunned, wondering what the hell was that all about.

And this was what happened most nights. Brendan would go out, pick up a bloke that wasn't Steven, like he did the night before, like he was going to do the next night and the night after that, and the night after that, going through as many of them as he could in that small gay community, dumping them the minute he finished using them, until they all got the message that Brendan was never going to be theirs. He belonged wholeheartedly to someone else, someone he will never meet, never get the chance to be with or possibly even love.

Whenever they would ask him for a second date, his phone number or even his real name, he would just give them the 'dogged the bullet' speech and leave it at that. A few months later the word on the streets was that if you were young, fit and blond, and wanted the greatest fuck of your life, you should look for 'The Bullet'. The guy would turn your world upside down. Just don't be surprised if you never get to see him again afterwards.

Little Leah was six months old when Brendan decided to leave Belfast for good. He never wanted to leave her but living in the same city as his wife, as the rest of his family brought him nothing but misery. Eileen never stopped haunting him, appearing everywhere she could find him, giving him lectures on propriety and cursing his indiscretions. It was slowly taking its toll on him. He wasn't openly gay, but he wasn't hiding it either. Katy took it hard but was as understanding as ever, even offering to help him. Why she thought he needed help was beyond him. He wasn't sick, his sexual orientation wasn't a disease, but he guessed with his grandmother filling her head, that was the only way she could look at it.

Telling her that he was going away was one of the hardest things he had to do, but he also knew there was no other way around it. That same day he quit his job and filed for a divorce. His parents and uncle Declan offered to help him out financially, until he got on his feet again, but he declined. What they didn't know was that ever since he was 18 he had a steady income and a huge sum of money on his savings account. How he got it? His grandfather, the notorious Brendan Brady.

On his 18th birthday, Brendan was approached by a lawyer who wanted to set up a meeting between him and his so-called benefactor. When Brendon told the man that he must have mistaken him for someone else and that he knew nothing about it, the man simply said that it wasn't a mistake, and gave him an address where the meeting was supposed to take place. The only thing was, he advised him not to say anything about it to anyone. Brendan was suspicious about the whole deal, but his curiosity got the better of him, so later that day he met with an astonishingly beautiful older lady who introduced herself as Anne Minniver. She said she was an old friend of his granddad's and that she was in charge of his finances. She revealed that he had left him a pub in Dublin, along with a B&B just above it, and that for years all the profits were being put to his savings account which he now had access to. There was also a monthly allowance, a little less than 3000 USD, which would come from a completely different source for the rest of his life. When Brendan mentioned that he didn't know anyone in America, and that that didn't make any sense, she explained that she was the one who invested some of his grandfather's money, and that these profits were coming from this little enterprise of hers. It wasn't much, she pointed ou , but it was enough to keep him going until he decided what he wanted to do with his life and the ever increasing amount he now had in the bank. However, he couldn't withdraw the whole sum before he was 30. It was a way of preventing him from blowing it all away when he was young and impressionable, and when people could take advantage of him. She added that he could take over the pub at any time, but that if he decided not to, there would always be someone from her family in charge of it. He only needed to let her know before he made any final decisions so that she could put everything into action.

After the business part of the meeting was over, she took the now shocked Brendan to lunch, teased him about his good looks, told him he was growing into a fine man and that his granddad would be proud of him if he'd still been alive.  
When Brendan asked if his granddad ever got to see him, she said he did, only once, just before he was about to leave Ireland and go back to England to die. He was diagnosed with a heart condition and told her he had a few months to live. He wanted to spend them at a place where he had been the happiest. Before he took the trip he said he wanted to see the boy who went by his name and was said to look just like him. He couldn't approach his family as they would never allow him anywhere near the kids, so he sneaked into Brendan's school at one of his classes, pretending to be the new student's great uncle, and asking anyone around if they saw him. In actuality, he only wanted to talk to his own grandson. He got his wish. They spoke for all of 5 minutes, but in such a short time Brendan realized that there was something eating at the boy, and he was praying to the god who'd abandoned him a long time ago, for it not to be anything similar to what he had had to struggle against his whole miserable life. He told his best friend at their last ever meeting to take care of him, and to do everything possible to make his life easier. Then he created the trust fund and left everything he owned to Benjamin Brendan Brady, his grandson.

The lady's eyes filled with tears when she talked about her friend and Brendan wished he knew more about the man, but just like everyone else, she refused to talk about him more. The man remained a complete mystery to him. The only thing he knew about him was that he had left his grandma when their kids were very young and went on a killing spree, which consequently led to him being imprisoned for the rest of his life. The only thing the lady had to say about that was that if his granddad had ever killed anyone, he certainly had a good reason for it. And that was it. He rarely saw the lady after that, and when he did, she refused to talk about the past, telling him that it was the future that mattered.

He did get to see her granddaughter, Mitzee, a lot. She was the one who was running the pub and taking care of the lodgings above it. She was a fiery little minx and Brendan felt immediately attracted to her. Every time he went to visit his pub, which had the most bizarre name ever, Stendan of all things, he tried to get Mitzee's attention. She usually played it cool, but after a full year she admitted that she might be feeling something too, which led to them going on a date. Everything went perfectly fine, and they both felt that instant electricity between them, but when they actually tried to kiss, as soon as their lips touched they both burst into laughter. The moment passed, and they never mentioned it again. They stayed really good friends and over the years, she was the only one Brendan opened up to, or at least tried to.

That is why when he finally made a decision to move to Dublin, Mitzee almost screamed his ears off. She got his granddad's room settled for him, the same one he occupied when he stayed at Stendan, telling him how happy she was she'd finally have him close enough for a booty call. By then she knew Brendan was more interested in men than women, but that had never stopped her and she never missed an opportunity to tease him about the teenage crush he had on her.  
Now, almost a year later, they bickered like an old married couple, but they loved the bones of each other too. Mitzee became Brendan's sister, his best friend, his only ally. She learned about his nightmares and she didn't judge him, or think of him less just because he was a bit damaged. She told him how we all had our demons, that some were worse than the others, but that fighting them was what mattered and finding someone to help you fight them together. During one of his blackouts, which in the last month or so increased in number, just as the nightmares had, she stayed with him for more than two hours outside in the pouring rain, talking to him as one would to a child, asking him to come back to her, ignoring the stares they were getting and when he finally came to, taking him back inside and helping him change into worm and dry clothes. After each of these traumatic events she would stay with him through the night, watch him sleep, the only comforting thought at those moments the fact that if Brendan was daydreaming that day, nightmares would stay away for the night.

The only time they seriously argued was after one of Brendan's latest conquests would come searching for him, making a scene at the pub or the reception. She couldn't understand how he failed to keep his personal life away from his business. The problem was that if Brendan had too much to drink he would take the random back home, to the room right next to his, have his way with him and then kick him out. Almost regularly they would come back searching for him. He still stuck to the 'one guy, one night only' policy, but Dublin was a small city. It didn't take much to find out who he really was and where he stayed, which made his life a lot more complicated.

Today was one of those days when he had to face another one of Mitzee's tantrums.

'He just barged in here, and started yelling your name. Woke up everyone in the lodgings. I had to go from room to room explaining and promising it wouldn't happen again, and that's after I had the cops drag his drunken ass away." She craned her head from the hall, looking into Brendan's room, trying to see if her words had elicited any reaction. His face was scrunched but his eyes were dancing with laughter behind them.

"It's not funny, Brendan!" She screamed at him, throwing herself on his bed, grabbing a cushion and digging her nails into it. Better it, than him, Brendan thought.

"I'm sorry I was just picturing you with your green mask on, scaring the guest away even more." The things that woman would put on her face.

"I wasn't wearing it, you idiot. I was still down at the pub, working. And you're the one to make fun of anyone, Mr Moisturizer!"

"Hey, this beautiful pale skin doesn't stay so smooth on its own, y'know?" He said, half-joking.

"Of course not, it takes half of the beauty parlor to make you look decent." She was grinning now.

"Hey, that was low!" He almost looked insulted.

"No, what was low was you leaving me on my own on such a busy night when you promised you'd be here. You never do that!"

And they were back to being serious. He should have been there for the big night. The couple that stayed with them had gathered guest from all over, most of whom had never met before, and that right there spelled trouble.

"I know, it was just… The lunch didn't go well, Eileen and I had an argument as usual, I ended up saying something hurtful about Katy, she rushed out.. it was a mess. I didn't even get to see Leah."

Mitzee reached out and took hold of Brendan's hand immediately.

"Oh, I'm sorry, love. Couldn't you go and see her afterwards?"

"I blacked out for a while, in the middle of my grandmother's lecture." Brendan's head was held low, he was talking more to himself than to her. He didn't really want to admit this, but they had no secrets between them.

"Again?" And there it was, the worried look on her face that he was hoping so desperately to avoid.

"It lasted for a few minutes tops." He tried to play it down.

" But, Bren… That's the second one this week."

" Yeah, I know. I freaked out myself, got a little distracted on my way home, came back sometime before dawn and well, ended up having the damn nightmare again."

"On the same day? Brendan, the symptoms are getting worse."

He knew they were getting worse. If he wasn't thinking about Steven during the day, he was having nightmares during nights. It was driving him insane. It had never been this bad.

"Maybe you should go back on the pills."

"No!" He didn't want that – with them in his system he was more out of control than ever. They made it hard for him to think properly or to even concentrate. He was not going back to the obscured reality those drugs put him into.

"Or just go see some other doctor." She tried again.

"I said no!" He sprang off the bed, almost angry now, and began pacing the room.

She came right after him, grabbing his forearm.

"I won't let them lock you up, Bren, I promise. But you need help."

He fought to keep his breathing normal. He couldn't afford another episode, not so close to the one he had the day before. He already felt distraught enough.

"Can we talk about something else, please?"

Mitzee stepped cautiously around him until she stood right under his chin, leaning forward slightly, making sure he knew it was her he was facing. She saw him reacting like a caged animal when cornered like this, lash out and hurt, without even realizing it.

"We can, but this discussion is not over."

"Okay."

And just like that, he was back. The switch between the two personalities was so evident that it sometimes scared her, but loving him and wanting to help him meant she needed to get over the fear. She didn't think he would purposely hurt her, but she was positive that if he ever did, he would never be able to forgive himself. So she never pushed too hard. She learned when to back down, and how to choose her battles wisely.

"Is there anything else I missed while I was in Belfast."

He stood there awkwardly, hot sure what to do with himself after that little outburst. She took his hand and led him back onto the bed. He followed like a little kid and it broke her heart to see him like this. She wanted to cheer him up so badly.

"Not much really. The engagement party downstairs went well, thank god."

"See, I told you, you can handle it." He almost looked proud of her.

"Yeah, well, I'm Mitzee. I can do anything," she said, pausing to reflect. "We were overbooked, though, so I had to rent the room next to yours to that fellow coming from England. He's not related to the bride or the groom, just a bad timing, I guess. I told him it might get a bit noisy in the next week, but he said he didn't mind and was just glad we were having him. Oh, and if he's as sexy as his voice, I wouldn't mind having him for a week either," she winked. That effectively broke the bad spell Brendan was under.

"You're shameless!"

"You're the one to talk!" She retorted.

"Maybe we could make it a bet. If he really is all that sexy, maybe we could see who can take him to bed first." Oh, the impish Brendan came out to play. That suited Mitzee just fine.

"That's not fair. What if he's gay?"

"There's more chance of him being straight, Mitzee," he shot back with an exasperated sigh.

"With my luck?" She wasn't kidding either. Half of the men she tried dating were either already gay, or turned gay after seeing her for a while.

"You chicken?" He started to mimic the said animal, making the bed bounce and let out a creaking noise.

"Oh, you are so on!" She exclaimed, slapping her palms against her thighs and jumping to the door. Well, this babe needs to freshen up if she's gonna break any hearts today."

"He's arriving today?" Brendan's eyebrow knotted in confusion.

"I sometimes wonder if you know which planet you live on", Mitzee stood by the door, shaking her head in displeasure.

" I remember you telling me about some guests from England. I just didn't know they were due today."

"A guest, Brendan. Only one. And all for me." She smiled that devilish smile of hers that could probably melt icebergs.

"We'll see about that." Somehow, Brendan had the feeling this was going to be one challenge he'd enjoy winning.

"Well, you better do what you do to make yourself look "pweety", big boy. You have but a few hours, and let's face it, you are no magician."

Brendan threw a cushion at her, wishing her out of the room, but smiling as she was walking through the door. She always knew how to do that - make things less horrible, less depressing. Even the memories of the last night's nightmare didn't seem so terrifying anymore. Or maybe he just got used to handling them. As many as he's had in the last few weeks he wouldn't be surprised. There had to be a reason for the increase in their frequency, but he couldn't figure it out. He was off the meds for more than 7 months now, and at first it was really challenging, but he pulled through. There were no new symptoms, he slept fairly well, never missed a meal, trained almost every day. Physically he was in top form. He had also never been more at peace with himself than at that moment, so why? What brought the demons back? It made him nervous, this feeling of not knowing, not being in control. Inside he was sure something was coming, even if he couldn't define what it was. He was readying himself for it, maybe dreading it up to some point, but also anticipating this new change, knowing that whenever the boy in his head comes to life, his life drastically changes. Was he ready for another one?  
Just like Mitzee would say 'Bring it on!'

***  
He stood in front of the mirror inspecting what must have been the 3rd outfit in the last hour, and all he could think of was _damn,_ he needed some new clothes. Ever since his first gay night out, Brendan reverted to his retro style even more which meant that his wardrobe pretty much consisted of dark jeans, leather jackets and boots, and simple tees and sweaters. He owned a couple of navy and black suits which he hardly ever wore. But when he did... He was aware of the effect his suited body had on his gender. Coupled with some dark shades and a pair of classic Oxford shoes he felt like the world belonged to him, but it seemed foolish to greet this British boy primped like that. Maybe he was taking this bet thing too seriously, but he hated losing. A new pair of pants and a nice shirt would probably work the best. There was this one Balenciaga red shirt he'd been eyeing for quite some time, but didn't really think it was worth the money. Not that the money was an issue, but why spending a small fortune on something he would probably wear once or twice. However, beating Mitzee was not an easy job on best of his days. He'd need all the help he could get, and if that meant spending a little extra, well... With that in mind he was out the door in ten minutes, hungry as hell because he stupidly missed his lunch, barely showered and unshaven. There'd be time for that later, he had a few hours to spare.

***Thank you for all the support, comments and private messages you are directing my way. They make my day!


	5. Quantum Physics

*** And here it is, as promised. Enjoy!

"You are not being serious?" Jay really had it with the custom officers. They'd been poking and prodding him for what felt like eternity and the one that was currently frisking him really didn't need to put his hand so close to his crotch. The small metal plate that was used to replace a part of his skull the surgeons removed to get to his swollen brain after his accident always gave him problems at airports, especially if he forgot to bring his medical card that supported his story. Like today. That's why he usually avoided flying, but he was so eager to get to his destination that he believed the trip worth the trouble. He was wrong, it wasn't.

"How many times do I have to repeat this? The plate is in my head, not my inner thigh!"

"Just safety procedures, Sir, it will be over in a few seconds."

"I thought you did this before boarding the plane, not after getting off one," he protested.

"I am not going to argue the process with you, Sir."

"Fine! Just fine!" It was beyond uncomfortable letting someone touch him like that and the uneasiness made him a lot more irritable than he usually was.

"There you go. It wasn't that bad, was it?" Had this man just talked to him like he was a kid at the dentist's?

"I beg to differ," he got the petulant child routine down to an art. "Can I go now?"

"Right through there, Sir."

"Finally!"

He went through the last barrier and made his way to the exit, speeding up as if someone was chasing him. When he realized that would only make him look suspicious and might elicit another full body search, he immediately slowed down. Christ, this trip really didn't start off that good. At least he didn't have to fight anyone to get into a taxi. 

When he arrived at _Stendan Inn_ the building itself surprised him, its 19th century structure, the façade almost untouched, with a rustic touch to it, just enough of it to give him that perfect getaway feeling. He felt instantly better. That was until he was almost run over by a dozen people rushing out of it, squabbling amongst each other over god knows what, ignoring his attempts to stop them from dragging his luggage along with them.

"Oi, watch it!"

One of his bags unceremoniously ended on the floor, and of course, it had to be the one with his granddad's laptop still in it. He'd be lucky if the thing remained in one piece. Scrunching his face in a scowl, he picked it up and dragged himself to the reception.

"Welcome to _Stendan Inn_. My name is Tika. How may I help you?" A cheery voice called from the front desk, the girl not even looking away from the computer.

"Uh, yeah. I believe I have a reservation here. The name is Hay."

Her movements froze the moment she heard him speak. She briefly closed her eyes, looking blissfully content for a couple of seconds before gathering herself and turning to finally look at him. As she did, her eyes widened and a fierce blush covered her cheeks.

And there it was again, Jay thought, that same bloody reaction. He hated it beyond belief. What was it about his looks that left most women, and even some men, speechless? Admittedly, he was good looking, but so were many other men out there, yet he never saw them getting a response like that, like they just wanted to reach out and touch him, check whether he was for real. It was probably one of the reasons he hated close human interaction and was, when anything physical was concerned, comfortable with only a few people in his life.

Patience wasn't one of his virtues, so he prompted her again,

"Miss?"

"Er, yes, of course Mr. Hay," the clerk stammered. "We've been expecting you."

"Great, well, I feel a bit tired from my trip so can I sign the admission and be on my way?"

"Certainly, Sir." She began to assemble the proper documents, her hands still slightly shaking.

"Please sign here." She produced a lengthy form which he didn't even read, so eager to get himself under a shower, feeling kind of dirty after being 'inspected' all over by the airport staff.

"Thank you, Mr. Hay." She pressed one of buttons on a funny looking machine to her right, without even looking at it, and after a brief squeaking sound a silver-black plastic card dropped out of the slot. 

"This is your key card for the room. Unfortunately, as we've explained in our earlier correspondence, this is just a spare room as all the others are currently occupied by the wedding party."

"That won't be a problem. As long as the shower works fine. "

"Oh, that it does," she was back to blushing again.

"Right, well, do I need any directions?"

"Up these stairs, through the hall, turn right when you reach the end of it. It will be the only room on the right."

"Thank you. Tika, was it?"

"Yes, Sir, Tika is right." She then came around the desk. "Do you need any help with your luggage? I can organize it for you right away. I am sure our manager would be happy to help. I'm sure both of them would." 

Even through the haze of his half asleep mind, Jay registered that the girl was acting kind of weird. There was a stagy smile on her face, and she was looking at him with a mixture of shyness, longing and friskiness, like she knew something he didn't. He wasn't sure he liked that.

"No, I can manage it, thank you again."

"Well, up you go then," she was ushering him now, all of a sudden impatient to get rid of him.

He climbed the stairs but stayed put at the top. Something was going on, and he wanted to be in on it. He could hear the girl's excited voice within seconds.

"Mitzee, you won't believe this. The hottie you talked to on the phone… He's here and he's gorgeous! I think I might be in love." 

So that was what it was all about. Jay should have guessed. Women and their gossip. Shaking his head in disapproval he made his way down the hall, thinking once again how odd the place was, starting with its peculiar name, not to mention the staff's. Mitzee? Tika? Where did these people come from? Another planet?

If he had stayed and listened in to the rest of the clerk's phone call he would have heard the girl's excited:  
"Wait until Brendan sees him! Oh, this is going to be so good!"

Jay turned right when he reached the end of the passage and ended up standing in front of two identical doors. It was supposed to be only one spare room there, and he wondered whether he had made any wrong turns, but this wasn't a big establishment, and he only saw this one turning anyway. He decided to try his luck with the key first, and if it didn't work, he'd need to go back to the chatty girl at the reception. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that. He tried the first lock, and as soon as the card went through, the door opened with a soft click. With a relieved expression on his face he pushed the door in, already thinking about the hot shower and a warm bed, but came to an abrupt halt after making the first step. The room wasn't empty. Well, it was, but someone most definitely lived there. Not just stayed for a while, this was someone's home. Jay knew he should have turned and left, and he wanted to. He valued his own privacy and didn't want to impose on someone else's but… There was this scent coming from the inside, strong, masculine, alluring. His lungs expanded on their own, needing to take more in, his senses reacting to it with recognition, the combination of being exposed to it, and having been deprived of it for so long making him lose the battle with his common sense. He rushed in, bags completely forgotten at the door, fighting the urge to start touching whatever he could lay his hands on.

He made a full circle around, noticing for the first time how large the room was. With its high ceilings and a black slate floor it looked more like a bachelor pad than a room really. There were separate areas, purposefully furnished to be of particular use, and almost everything was made either out of wood or leather.

A grand oak desk was situated in front of a pair of glass doors that led out into a balcony, the light coming through them scattered generously over the floor. There was a matching hardwood wardrobe on the left while a large mirror occupied what was left of the wall it was leaned against.

In the far right corner was a spacious silver birch bed, the dark wood headboard contrasting its beautiful silvery finish. Cozily seated between a tall chest of drawers and a small nightstand, draped in deep red satin sheets, with black cushions scattered carelessly around, the bed looked invitingly soft and comfortable, and Jay couldn't help himself. He walked toward it, taking in the already familiar scent, now even more poignant, and upon reaching it lowered his body on a neatly made surface. His palms caressed the soft fabric beneath him that felt uncharacteristically warm, the heat from the body that was wrapped in it the night before lingered, making his own react with ardent need. He just lay there, letting the sensations wash over him, thinking of how great it would be if he could just close his eyes for a little while, and let go, succumb. But he knew he couldn't. What if he was caught basking around in the warmth of someone else's bed.

Reluctantly, Jay stood up, headed for the door, but got distracted by the fact that the wardrobe was slightly open and that he could see some of the garments sticking out. Someone must have been in a hurry and didn't get to place them right back on the shelves. He smiled at that for some reason. He reached in and started browsing through the array of soft sweaters and matching slacks, examining their colour, design and texture, enjoying these amazing sensual vibes that were being signaled through his body with every new item he saw, touched or felt. He found several well-tailored suits, some ironed shirts and a waistcoat. There were a great deal more casual clothes than the dressy ones, and he kind of liked that. The leather jackets and coats were a bit of a surprise, but again, he knew nothing of this person. They might even have a leather fetish or something.

Jay almost tripped backing down from the clothes and his own thoughts when he hit his leg on the short coffee table standing at the foot of the bed. The upholstered recliner chairs were placed at the opposite sides of it, one considerably more worn-out than the other. This person didn't like to entertain much, Jay mused, not much unlike himself.

He assumed the interior sliding door across the table led to the bathroom. He pushed it slowly, revealing a decent sized jets stream shower which he felt tempted to try on, even if it meant being caught naked. There were only accessories and toiletries for one person, a male person. No trace of a woman anywhere. He didn't know why it was even important for him to reach that conclusion, but somehow it was. This man lived alone.

Wanting to take a look at one last thing before actually leaving this place, Jay stepped into the room again and came before the bookcase right next to the door that held dozens of dusty leather-bound books, the titles hard pressed onto the outside covers. They were all on the passage of time, reincarnation, parallel universes and quantum physics. Besides a few framed photos of a toddler, the only other thing there was a small collection of watches and clocks, ranging from hour-glasses and table clocks to pocket and wrist watches. Whoever this man was, he had to be obsessed with time, or the lack of it. Maybe he was dying and this was his way of coping, believing that there was another reality where he could be happy, another life waiting for him, the next life.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Jay felt overpowered by a strange emotion, a recollection he was certain wasn't completely his. He clearly remembered his granddad's lover saying just that: _See you in the next life, Steven_ … the _next life, Steven_ … _next life, Steven_ …. He covered his ears with the palms of his hands to stop the words that kept ringing in his head. Taking a few steps back, he startled himself further by walking into a boxing bag that hung from the ceiling beam. It disoriented him entirely, everything about his surroundings feeling alien, yet intimate. It was enough to spur him into a full panic mode, and as the flares of shock ran through him, he grabbed hold of his luggage and was just about to turn around and leave when a disembodied voice made him drop them to the floor again. He almost followed suit.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" 

Instead of facing the man and providing whatever plausible explanation to what he was really doing there, Jay stood frozen, speechless, his mind trying desperately to decipher where he knew that voice from. And he was certain he did.

"If you are here to steal something, you're at the wrong place. I don't keep anything valuable here. Well, not to you, anyway."

The light baritone was deceptively calm. Jay knew he was in trouble. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted to ten in his head trying desperately to calm down, then opened them one at a time and forced himself to look at the man behind him. 

"I wasn't here to steal anyth…," that was how far he got because once again he lost the ability to speak. The half-turn he made gave him a perfect view of the man at the door, the tall dark figure clad in tight jeans, his shoulders covered with a leather jacket, hair sticking out in short spikes, his eyes magnificently blue, narrowed to tight slits. He realized it then. The man could not see him well because of the sunlight reflecting right off him, but he, on the other hand, could see every small part of him, recognizing each bit on its own, knowing how it would feel under his fingertips, the flavor it would give if he let himself taste it, but unable to match the whole of him with the name in his head. Caught by the moment, Jay stepped toward the man, reached out with his hand, possibly trying to touch him, and with the breathlessness he had hard time controlling, he whispered:

"Who _are_ you?"

The stranger recoiled from the touch, but upon seeing Jay's features more clearly now, and obviously flattered by the other man's completely smitten reaction, he changed his tone from a threatening to a flirty one.

"I think I asked you first."

"Yeah, you did that." Jay glued his eyes to the floor, unable to face the man standing opposite him. Had he really just done that? Tried to touch his face? What was wrong with him, he thought. He should be apologizing for being in his room, going through his things and not trying to map the man's face with his hands. Jesus, he needed to get out of there.

"Look, I'll just be out of your way. I didn't steal anything I swear. This was just a misunderstanding. " 

He tried to get past the man, but all he managed to do was get them closer. They were now both standing under the arch of the door, touching hip to hip, breathing each other's air, their eyes locked in a silent, challenging stare.

The man tilted his head, a confused expression taking over his face.

"Do I know you?"

"I don't think so," Jay was quick to answer. 

"I could swear on my life that I.. that we.." He obviously didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"That we what?" Jay really wanted to know. Did the man feel this weird connection too, this uncanny awareness that there was so much more between them than they were able to see.

"Look, I don't really know what is going on here, but maybe you could go back inside and we can have a little talk."

"Yeah?" Jay wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea.

"Look, I promise not to bite. " That lightened the mood somewhat. Jay relaxed a bit, especially when he saw that the man was smiling at him. He couldn't get rid of this feeling that smiling wasn't something he did very often. He was glad that it was him who was eliciting the reaction. So much so that the words he never thought he'd say in a similar context just slipped from his lips.

"Who says I'd let ya?" He instantly went scarlet at the implications of his little outburst.

"Ah, feisty. I like that." The smile turned into a grin. "Go on, make yourself comfortable. I think you already know where everything is." 

Jay slumped into the barely used recliner and hid his face between his hands in embarrassment. "I'm sorry about that."

"Hey," the man crouched in front of him and took hold of Jay's wrists, gently tugging them down, "I was only joking." 

The contact made them both shiver, an involuntary reaction that they both tried to hide. 

"Er…right. So, how did you end up here?" The man asked, stepping away and taking a seat in the remaining chair. It was definitely safer to get some distance between them.

"I had a key card." 

"I figured that out myself."

"Smartass!" Jay grinned. "I mean, the receptionist gave me the key card, told me where to find my room. I saw two doors, tried this one first. It worked so I …" 

"Decided to play Goldilocks?" He arched one of his eyebrows and smirked.

"I didn't eat your food and I didn't break anything," Jay protested. 

"But you slept in my bed?" He was now leaning towards Jay, the need to keep away from him completely forgotten. 

"No!" Jay hesitated. "Well, not really."

"Oh, do tell."

"I just tried it on. I was dead tired. Still am." The excitement of the trip and everything that came after it was taking its toll on him, and Jay was really struggling to keep his eyes open. 

"Well then, I better get you to bed." The man said, standing up.

"What?" Jay's eyes were wide open now. He searched for the man's face, hoping he wasn't being serious.

The stranger bent a little, enough to reach Jay's ear and purred "I meant _your_ bed. _Your_ room." With his accent everything sounded like purr to Jay, or maybe he was just that tired.

"Oh, right." The sheepish look of a scolded schoolchild made his guilty thoughts as clear as day.

"Unless you want to stay here and go back into the mess you've already made of my pristine sheets."

"I didn't make any… oh!" He really did. The bed was tuned into a tangled ball of screwed covers, some thrown about the floor, other hung off the edge. _When did that happen?_ Jay asked his now even more confused mind.

"I must have gotten carried away." If he kept blushing like this, all of his blood would venture north and his legs would give out.

"I wonder what with."

"Nothing! Just …. Nothing!"

And there was that eyebrow shooting up again. But, he didn't press for more answers, seemingly happy that he had reduced Jay to a stammering idiot.

"Let me see what I can do about your room." Just as the man was about to leave, Jay remembered to ask.

"Is mine as big as yours?"

"I don't know, is it?"

Jay couldn't figure out why the man looked like he was holding his laughter, and almost bursting with the effort. "How should I know?" Jay looked exasperated.

"What makes you think I do?"

"Well at least you know what one looks like. You must have seen the others at some point." 

"You've never seen yours?" The man was obviously faking the surprise. 

"If I had, I wouldn't have ended up in your room." 

"Oh, we were talking about rooms. " 

"Of course we were. What did you think we were talking about?" His tired mind tried to play back the conversation he had just had a few seconds ago. "Oh my god! Do you ever think about anything else?"

"No, not really. It's not, by the way." 

"It's not what?" 

"Bigger than mine." He was smiling the most wolfish smile Jay had ever seen. "It's actually quite, quite small."

" I think I'd rather stay in yours then." 

"Moving in already? Haven't we skipped a few steps?" 

"Very funny."

"I thought so. Right, who should I ask the key for?"

"Mr. Hay"

"Do you have a first name?" 

"Why wouldn't I? It's Jay." 

"Jay Hay? Who names their kid Jay Hay?"

"My parents obviously did." 

"Jay is not a name, it's a letter."

"Dear god, do you always obsess about names so much?" 

"Only when people won't tell me their real ones." 

"This is my real name. I have a middle one too, but since you are being such an ass about it, I won't tell you what it is," Jay fussed, puffing his cheeks out in a pout at the other man. 

"I'll find out." There was a promise in the way he said it. 

"Good luck with that."

"Get your bags ready. You are in the room next to mine. Tika must have given you the wrong key." 

Jay kind of felt good that he won't be staying too far from the man. He picked up his bags again, made it to the door and watched him disappear down the hall.

"Hey!" As soon as he called out, the man was in his line of vision again. That was fast, he thought.

"You never told me your name."

"Oh, it's Brendan," he yelled back running down the stairs.

For god knows what time that day, Jay lost the hold of his bags, letting them hit the floor with an ominous thud, his granddad's laptop the furthest thing from his mind.


	6. What if I told you xxx ?

*** Bad Fan Fiction writer! I know, no update in three weeks. And I promised myself I wouldn't be writing any loooong chapters, but _Dammit!_ it felt so right. I hope I didn't lose your interest. As always, enjoy!

xxx

Tika was still behind the front desk when Brendan reached her, but she might as well have not been there. It took him three tries to get her attention.  
"What is up with you today? First you give our guest the wrong key card, MY key card, and now you're woolgathering all over the place." There was sternness in the way he reproached her.

"I am so sorry, Brendan. It's just… I got distracted. I mean, have you seen him? Can you blame me? It's a wonder I remembered where the rooms are, let alone what key to give him. "

That didn't sound very much like an apology to Brendan, but he had to agree. The boy did have an overall physique reminiscent of a Greek deity or something, possibly with a devilish streak if his instincts were right. He obviously attracted interest wherever he went, but if Brendan saw him in a club or some other public place, he would probably never approach him.

"Have your eye on the boy-candy, haven't you, Tika?" He teased.

"Me, and everybody else, apparently." She said it as if she was lamenting her poor chances at winning him over.

"Don't lose your heart over this one. He is already spoken for."

"You mean because of the bet?"

"How do you even know about that?" He was irritated now. "Do you and Mitzee ever stop gossiping?"

"With so much material around, especially the one provided by you, why would we?" She smiled sweetly at him. "You are this place's number one attraction, Brendan. "

"Is that right?"

"That's the only reason I'm still working here and not at some posh place where my assets would be appreciated."

"You'd get fired on your first day."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes in response.

"If you must know, I overheard you two talking. It didn't take much to make Mitzee spill the beans on your little arrangement. "

"Great. Just stay out of it, okay?"

When she said nothing, he raised his voice a bit.

"I mean it! Now, can you get me the right key card this time? In this century?"

"Where's the fire, Brendan? Slow down, I'll get it for you."

"He is dead on his feet. I don't want him falling down the stairs or anything, do I?"

"Aw! This is so sweet, you caring about him already."

"I don't… That's not… "

For the millionth time Brendan wished Tika wasn't Mitzee's cousin so he could fire her ass AND make sure she never got hired anywhere else ever again.

"Tika, just get me the bloody key before I lose the little patience I have left."

"Ok, don't get so grumpy. I need to look for the right code to enter. We never rent that room, so it is not in the system. It might take a few minutes."

"Get it going then."

As he stood there awkwardly waiting for his employee to demonstrate some usefulness for once, Brendan went over the whole 'walking into Mr. Hay' situation from earlier, a smile appearing on his face when he thought about how easy it was to rile the boy up. It didn't take much to provoke a reaction, to turn him into an embarrassed mess. He liked that, it showed him that the boy had an innocence about him that was very disarming, kind of appealing and tempting at the same time. It made his protective instincts kick into overdrive … which didn't make any sense. The boy was almost as tall as himself. His waist was definitely slightly smaller, his hips narrow and lean, but his chest seemed broad, bulged with solid muscle, and his shoulders maybe even wider than his own. The combination of his masculine physique and natural shyness made Brendan's head spin. The things he could do to that body…

He still thought that despite his good looks, he wouldn't have picked the boy out of the crowd. He was bulkier than most of the guys he prayed on, taller and his hair was a darker shade than he wanted it to be. There was nothing frail or slight about this boy, he looked like pure muscle underneath that clumsy array of clothes he put on. But his face was another story. There was something vulnerable about it, something agonizingly familiar in those soft blue eyes, the upturned nose, the high cheeks and the wonderfully pouty lips. And when he smiled, it was an all-out, full-scale one that left him absolutely baffled.

But that wasn't why Brendan was affected by him so much. The physical beauty was something he had gotten used to in the last year and a half. All the men he was with were pretty boys, but nothing more than that. Not to him anyway. This guy, however… He didn't even know him, but when he stepped closer and when their bodies accidentally touched, Brendan's whole body reacted in an instant. Every single cell was alerted, every sense attacked. In his mind he already knew how the boy would smell, the scent overpowering any other stimulant, guiding him closer, making him want to reach out and touch. He felt the violent need to put his arms around the boy, to comfort him, to make sure he was safe, to reconnect. It took more restraint than he realized he even possessed to stop himself from doing just that. But then, the boy seemed to want to do the same. Wasn't he the first one who tried making contact, startling Brendan into retreat, something he had never done before?

To say that he was intrigued was putting it mildly. He was a whole step beyond that. The challenge of having this boy, even if just for one night, made him feel alive and energized. He wanted to speed everything up, fast-forward to the moment when he'd have the boy's long legs wrapped around himself, settling between his hips, thrusting deep.

"Er, Brendan?"

"What?"

"Honey, with the sounds you were making, and from the look on your face, I really want in on what YOU've been mooning over."

Caught off guard, Brendan stumbled around, but quickly composed himself and addressed the girl who was eying him curiously.

"Mind your own business."

Seemingly offended, Tika just pushed the key card into his hand, turn around and resumed her earlier position behind the desk.

"Suit yourself, but don't even think running back to me for some inside information when you start losing this little competition you've got going with Mitzee."

"And what makes you think I'll lose?"

"Because the boy is straight."

"You can't possibly know that."

"I Googled him. You'd be amazed what you can find on the internet these days."

"That's just a minor setback. Don't count your chickens yet."

Brendan couldn't take the confident grin off his face. If the reaction with which the boy greeted him was anything to go by, that tidbit of information should not daunt his plans to persuade him to go after what he secretly wanted. Brendan realized that he might need to put in more effort than usually, but there was no doubt in his mind that the boy would be worth it.

Eating up three steps at a time, he disappeared from the clerk's view in a flash. Although still angry at his earlier treatment of her, she was nonetheless glad that Brendan was behaving like that. She'd never seen him that interested in anyone before. He barely even knew the guests' names, and he certainly never helped them to settle into their rooms. And as for his dates, he definitely didn't bother to learn anything about them. He was acting all out of character and Tika saw potential of a very juicy gossip. She couldn't wait to see how it would all play out.

xxx

The second he emerged from the corridor and stepped into the narrow passage that led to his room, Brendan drew to a surprised stop. The boy was still standing where he had left him, absolutely motionless except for the slight tremors that hit his body periodically, almost like tiny shocks, his head held low, his eyes firmly shut, his lips forming inaudible words.  
Brendan was by his side in an instant.

"Hey, hey, what happened?"

His hands were on the boy now, touching, checking to see it he was hurt, the need to protect him overwhelming.

"Come on, look at me!"

He tried lifting his head, but the boy wouldn't budge. Brendan started panicking. He was so distracted down at the reception that one of the guys he had recently pulled could have gone past him, tried waiting outside his room to get his attention, knowing no other way of getting to him. It happened a few times before. Some even tried threatening him into a relationship. If one of them came here, saw the boy, and mistakenly thought that they were together….

"Was someone here? Did someone touch you?"

Nothing.

"Come on, Goldilocks, open those pretty eyes for me."

There was worry behind his words, but he tried teasing him again, remembering how that always elicited some kind of reaction. His thumbs followed the lines from the boy's cheekbones to his temples, increasing the pressure slightly, until his fingers interlaced behind the neck.

"Come on." This time he whispered the words, his hot breath just above Jay's ear.

That did it. One last shock went through Jay's body before he opened his eyes, let out an astonishing amount of air he'd been holding for what must have been an eternity, and peeked at Brendan from underneath his eyelashes.

"What happened?" Brendan repeated the question, his hands still firmly on the boy.

Jay looked startled, like he hadn't expected him to be there, to be real.

"Your name is Bre-e-e-ndan," he deadpanned.

"Yeah," he dragged the word out, looking at the boy's still very much dismayed expression.

"What, you don't like the name?"

"How can you be him?" Jay was violently shaking his head, as if doing it faster or with more force would change anything.

"How can this be possible?" He looked hopefully at Brendan, genuinely expecting an answer.

"What do you mean 'him'?"

"No, I just… You don't understand. If you're him, then it's you." Brendan was staring to get even more confused, and a bit irritated by the minute.

"If I'm him, how can I be me? You're not making much sense, boy."

"I know I don't. But this means it's … it's you I've been… And you look just like him. You feel like him too."

Brendan could feel Jay's timid touch, the way the boy's fingers traced over his shoulders, his arms, then back to his chest. He fought to keep a moan from escaping, somehow knowing that it would stop these innocent ministrations.

"And when you look at me like that, I know what you want." Jay's palm covered Brendan's heart, which started beating with a new kind of excitement. "I know your needs," the boy continued, "I know your fears. " Then one of his fingers was touching Brendan's right temple. "I know your most inner thoughts." Then he looked him straight in the eyes and with an equal and staggering amount of both conviction and pain he moaned, "I know you! "

Brendan was stunned into silence. The boy seemed so honest, so certain of what he was saying and admittedly, the words ran true to him as well. The weird connection he felt when he had the boy close to himself intensified with every moment they spent together. It unnerved him that he couldn't explain what was making them feel that way. And what was more, even the thought of someone having an insight into his disturbed mind made him apprehensive and fidgety.

They stood there, facing each other, their chests heaving from the effort the heavy breathing exerted from their almost touching bodies, trapped in a nervous dither of expectancy, neither of them able to understand what was going on between them, yet hoping that the other one had the answer.

Just as Brendan was ready to push for more, Jay's body became limp, his energy seeped out completely, Brendan's hands still wrapped behind his neck the only reason he had not hit the floor.

"Whoa, boy! " Brendan tightened the hold. Jay was heavier than he looked, and he was struggling to keep him from falling down.

"Jesus… Sorry about this." He let the boy's weight fall onto himself, lifted his feet off the ground, pulling him up, finally managing to get him over his shoulder. He debated getting him into his own room, but after everything that had happened between them in the last hour, he decided against it. He unlocked the adjacent room and maneuvered through the door, trying not to hit Jay's head against the frame. When he reached the bed, he had just about enough strength to gently lower the boy onto the mattress, finally getting his deadweight off. Jay just crawled into a fetal position and continued sleeping. Just like that. Not knowing what else to do, Brendan remained in the room for some time, wanting to make sure that the boy was fine before leaving.

He took a seat in the large, worn-out armchair by the bed, taking his phone out to check his messages, do anything that would take his mind off the boy and the things he implied earlier. Tried as he might, he couldn't focus on anything else. Not when Jay was right in front of him. He had a hard time taking his eyes away from his gentle features. He looked so sweet and innocent, almost like a child. Quite a few misbehaved strands steamed over his face and Brendan instinctively dropped his hand and brushed them away.

"You are a right mess, aren't you, boy?"

His closed eyes were calm and serene, the long eyelashes making a perfect shadow in the dim light of the room. His mouth, slightly opened, seemed soft and inviting and Brendan thought about how great it would be to kiss them, how easy it would be to just lean down and sneak a taste and he would never know. He could feel sweat form at his palms and the back of his neck. He wanted to do it, he needed the contact.

His lips almost touched the boy's when in a sudden moment of clarity he realized what he was about to do. How could he even think of abusing his trust, of taking advantage of his vulnerability? He could never, never do that. He was out the door before the strange urges his body was fighting made him lose control.

He didn't come back to the room but he did check on the boy a few hours later. Their rooms shared a balcony, and although the curtains were fully drawn, peaking through the window he could still make out the boy's figure which was now uncomfortably curled up in the armchair pushed to the opposite side of the room. Brendan wandered what happened to make him give up the soft mattress for the stiff old chair. Maybe he suffered from nightmares as well. He wanted to know more about the boy, so much more. Standing there by the window, reminding himself of one of his own stalkers, he again wondered what made this boy so different, what made him special. Brendan would make sure he'd have time to find out. He went back in, sat at his desk and scribbled a short note. Going down to check on the club and Mitzee, he made a quick stop at Jay's room, leaving the note at the nightstand.

XXX

With a heavy groan Jay began the gruelingly slow process of untangling his body from within his makeshift bed, fighting the numbness in his limbs. With every movement he let a small curse fill the room, feeling even worse after it. He hated swearing but there were moments when there just wasn't anything more effective to say. Like that one, right then. _Very smart, Jay, leaving the bed and settling for the old stodgy chair that looked like it could break with a slight tap,_ he chastised himself. How he even managed to fit in was a mystery, but he was sure he'd be feeling the aftereffects of that little trick in the next few days. Carefully he got up and the blood started to circulate more quickly through his veins, waking up his sleepy limbs. The bathroom was just a few steps away, but it felt like torture getting there. Stepping in, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, his face scrunching up and nose wrinkling as his upper lip curled back a bit in distaste.

"Jesus, I look a right mess," he proclaimed for no one else's benefit but his own, but hearing himself say it jogged a memory of someone else calling him just that. With a soft whine he lowered himself to the toilet seat and hid his face in his arms.

"No, no, no, that didn't happen. I didn't meet the man of my dreams and then just fainted right in front of him." Did he say 'of his dreams'? He meant 'from his dreams'. Dammit, even his brain wasn't cooperating, not much unlike the rest of his body. He still had difficulties moving, and he felt a shooting pain under his left shoulder blade. It figured that the old wound would decide to make itself known on top of everything else. He got to his feet again, stretching as much as the pain would allow him, and took another look at himself. His hair was sticking out in all directions, his eyes were bloodshot, and he needed a shave. And possibly a new face, since he wasn't sure how he was going to show this one around Brendan after what happened.

He wasn't even clear on that either. He recalled being stunned into silence and immobility after hearing the man's name and all the rest was one big blur. He was rambling something about knowing the man from before and that it couldn't have been possible for them to meet. That much he remembered. Oh, and saying that he could recognize the man's needs. He let out another long groan and pushed his forehead against the coldness of the mirror. What on earth possessed him to say that? The guy must have thought he was a nutter. He probably still believed that.

"Serves me right after the way I reacted. I won't be surprised if he decided to run as quickly as he saw my stupid mug."

Except, it bothered him to even think that Brendan would try and avoid him. He wouldn't blame him if he did, but somehow he knew that it would hit him hard. He wasn't sure that he was ready to let Brendan go. Not without an explanation, not without having tried to solve this puzzle of their unaccountable connection. He needed answers and he needed them soon. But, what if Brendan didn't want anything to do with him anymore?

Feeling even more depressed than before, he stepped into the shower, praying that the cold water would stop the unwanted thoughts running through his mind and ease the intense ache that had formed in his chest at the very thought of losing what he never really had. Unfortunately, all it did was make him cold. He changed the temperature to scalding hot, endured it for a couple of moments before shutting the water off, grabbing the towel and marching towards his bags, all the time wishing he could erase the happenings of that day.

He reached for the clothes in his bag, but got distracted halfway through by what was obviously some kind of a letter placed against the bedside lamp. It was still day outside but the curtains were almost completely drawn in. He rushed to pull them apart, taking the letter with him. He only knew of one person who could be leaving him notes, so he tore into the envelope as soon as he let enough light into the room.

 _Hey, sleepy-head!  
I hope your bed was juuuuust right. Or not. What'd you think, the chair'd be comfier? You made me regret I didn't take you to mine. Then again, I'm not sure you would have done much of sleeping in it either._

Jay's cheeks flushed with the rush of blood that was immediately pulled there at the thought.

 _I bet you're blushing right now. You are, aren't you? Well, stop it and come find me down at the club. There'll be something warm waiting for you to fill you up._

 _Tsk, tsk, tsk… Dirty mind you have there, Goldilocks. I meant the stew._

 _Catch you later,_

 _Brendan._

With his jaw dropped and his eyes wide open, Jay looked more like a cartoon character than anything else. To say that he was surprised was an understatement, but he couldn't say he was displeased. So Brendan wasn't freaked out by his 'fainting all over the corridor' stunt. That was good to know. But why the man felt such a strong need to flirt with him all the time, was still an enigma that he needed to solve. Did Brendan think he was gay? Was Brendan? And if he was, would that change anything? Maybe he did it just so that he could get a reaction out of him. Mikey did it often enough. But his best friend didn't really care about genders much. He never seemed conflicted about his sexuality, but rather found joy in it. Men, women or anything in-between, Mikey liked them all. He called it 'the new age trend' and was very much proud of his orientation. Could Brendan be the same? And what did that reveal about himself since he obviously enjoyed the attention he was getting? Admittedly, he had been fantasizing about the man for years. Not that he knew it at the time, but still, there was always this strange awareness in the back of his mind that the person he was searching for wasn't an ordinary woman; probably because it wasn't a woman at all. Jay felt a headache coming on and his stomach gave a rebellious grumble, reminding him that he hadn't taken any food since before his trip.

He hurriedly put some clothes on, opting for the casual look with one of his smart shirts and dark, close fitting jeans. He was only going to the pub anyway. He wore his hair a bit longer at the front and usually styled it with a lot of gel, which he now realized he didn't have. He couldn't believe he forgot to bring it with him. He just knew he was going to spend half the evening getting hair out of his eyes. He ended up making a softer, less edgy version of his normal hairstyle, getting his fringes tucked in tightly behind his ears. As if that would last.  
With no hope of improving his looks beyond what a nice dress-up, clean shoes and a brush would bring along, Jay left the room feeling less confident than he liked, but more excited than he dared to admit.

xxx

"Would you stop looking at that door, already? You are giving me a whiplash!"

"Then stop following me around, woman!"

Mitzee and Brendan had been at it for at least an hour, shooting evil-eyed dirty looks at one another and making smartass comments about how the other one was behaving.

"I can't. I've never seen you like this. I just can't get enough of it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Brendan's got the hots for the new man-candy in town!" She made it just loud enough for everyone around to hear. "Will he be your new boytoy, Bren, or will you just love him and leave him?"

"Jesus, don't call him that. And aren't you supposed to be fighting me on this? This is a competition after all."

Dammit! Why was he gauging her like that? He didn't really want her to even try it with the boy, let alone win the bet.

"Oh, I will, sweetheart. I'll make you work for his sweet little ass. It might make you appreciate it more then."

"How would you know his ass is sweet? You haven't even seen him."

"By the way you're reacting to it, even when it's not in the room, I'd say it's the sweetest we've both seen so far." She clicked her tongue at the end.

"What if I said the boy was off limits?" _Desperate times call for desperate measures_ , Brendan thought.

"You can't call dibs on him now! We made a bet!"

"I did see him first," he pointed out.

"Are you scared of losing, pweety boy?" She twirled her body around him to reach his ear and bit on the lobe, knowing how much it would annoy him, then ended it by touching his rough face before pinching the cheek, hard.

"No, you evil witch, I just don't want your claws marring his virgin skin."

"He'd hardly be a virgin," she scoffed.

"He'd be in regards to what I can make him experience and very soon he'll be gagging for it." Brendan was planning on doing whatever it took to reach that goal.

"Has he shown any interest in you at all, or are you just basing this on your enormous ego?"

"I'm not telling you anything about him. Anything you wanna know, you'd have to find out for yourself."

He turned to leave but she was very soon in his face again. He actually wondered how high her heels were if she managed to do that.

"Fine. Can I at least know his name, or will you be withholding that as well?"

"He said Jay, but something tells me that's not his real name."

"You think he lied about it? Why would he?" She went behind the bar to pull herself a drink, not wanting to bother any of the staff that already had their hands full.

"Because he revealed he had a middle name AND because no one would survive school with a name like Jay Hay."

He knew how cruel kids could be, himself included. When he was a child he picked on others for much less. Not that he was proud of that, but it was the way schools worked. He was just about to point that out when he saw Mitzee almost tripping over her own feet in a haste to reach him, letting out a small yelp of surprise. He barely had time to catch her when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Well, it's nice to know that I'm being talked about even when I'm not in the room, and by almost total strangers."

Mitzee kept standing there, transfixed in her spot, clutching Brendan's forearms. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but ended up gaping at the newest arrival with eyes as wide as saucers. She wasn't blinking either.

"Hi, my name IS Jay. You must be Mitzee." The boy smiled at her, his amusement evident. For once, he was glad his looks gave rise to such a strong reaction.

"You can speak now, darling. I reassure you, he's real." Brendan shook Mitzee's hands off him, not wanting to give the boy the wrong impression. She retaliated by pressing one of her heels viciously against the front part of his shoe.

"Shut up!" She hissed at him, before turning sweetly to the boy, offering one her winning smiles. With one last glare towards Brendan, she eased herself effortlessly into a conversation.

"Hi, you're right. We've talked on the phone a few days ago. You have a really pleasant voice."

"Thank you, so do you."

Now that was more like it, Mitzee thought.

"Thank you, that is very sweet of you. Not everyone would agree. " She was back at staring at Brendan who remained silent, eager to see how the boy would take his friend's instant flirtation.

"I have to apologize for the confusion with the keys earlier today. It never happened before, but in my employee's defense, the right key code wasn't even in the system. I'm sure I can find a way of making it up to you."

"No, it's fine, you don't have to do that. It really didn't turn out to be such a bad experience, after all." His eyes darted towards Brendan, whose expression was all smug. Mitzee didn't miss that, and her eyebrows knitted in confusion. There was definitely something going on between the two of them. Her friend couldn't take his eyes off the boy, who in return turned all shy once he saw that Brendan's attention was completely on him.

"Do you guys know each other from before?"

They both flinched at that. If they did, it obviously wasn't a topic either of them was comfortable talking about. Nevertheless, she patiently waited for a reply. Her chances of winning this bet were nonexistent if Brendan had already been with the boy. Without exception, they all came back for more. However, this would be the first time ever Brendan would even consider a second date.

"We haven't met before today, if that's what you're asking." Brendan didn't really give her a straight answer, but she let it go. There'd be time to figure out what was going on there. She turned the conversation into a light chat after that, glad that her charms didn't go undetected by the boy. She was shameless in her advances, and he took each one with a dose of restraint. He would smile, and return a compliment if one came his way, but no matter how hard she tried, the boy's eyes would always stray to the Irishman by her side. Feeling confident in her powers, yet incapable of exercising them to any purpose, Miztee tried one last thing - getting Jay away from Brendan.

"Can I offer you something to drink, or maybe a bite of something tasty. You must be starving."

"I would love that, actually." Just as she reached to put her arm under his and pull him in the general direction of the bar, he gallantly moved away, avoiding any possible contact and moved toward Brendan.

"You promised to feed me."

Brendan smirked at Miztee's frozen expression of disbelief. She had never been turned down more obviously or more quickly in her life.

"So I did."

"Do you always keep your promises?" Jay was looking directly at the other man, still moving closer until he was standing right in front of him.

"To some people more than others."

"Where does that qualify me?"

Brendan wasn't sure if the boy knew what he was doing, that his behavior was showing that he was more than interested in Brendan. Jay followed his every move, meticulously. He was so exclusively focused on Brendan, that he didn't even notice the appreciative looks he was getting from other patrons, nor the way Mitzee was sulking back at the bar. His need to be close to Brendan was obvious, and was something that the other man secretly craved for, but openly feared. Not only that his own needs matched the intensity of boy's, they were ruling his every thought, every move. It was unsettling how little control over themselves they had when they were together.

"I guess you will just have to stick around to see."

"Lead the way then."

He put his arm around Jay's shoulders and pulled him towards the booth furthest from the inquisitive looks the regulars had been throwing their way.

Once settled, Jay tucked into the meal that had already been waiting for him with hungry dedication, but it was nothing compared to the enthusiasm Brendan was exhibiting, with his lips smacking and almost every mouthful being followed by a satisfied grunt. Once he finished, he even licked his fingers.

"You eat like a pig," Jay couldn't help but comment.

Far from being offended by it, Brendan just smiled.

"It's been said before. I'm a man with powerful appetites, Goldilocks." The boy flinched at the nickname. "I like to indulge them as much as I can."

Jay went red all over at the implication of those words, and tried his best to change the subject.

"I thought the brochure said you only served breakfast."

"It depends who is getting served, and trust me it will always be a pleasure serving you."

"Can I ask you something?" The boy's eyes lost contact with Brendan's for the first time in a while. "Why are you always flirting with me?"

"Does it bother you? You want me to stop?"

Still not looking at him, Jay insisted on getting the answer. "You didn't answer my question."

"It comes naturally. When I see what I like, I go for it."

"So you like me?" Confusion marred his delicate features when he finally looked up.

"I thought that was obvious."

"But I'm not gay." Somehow he felt that needed to be said out loud.

"I never said I was either." Brendan replied, stretching his arm over the table, and touching the boy's cheek briefly. "I don't like labels. But if we have to use them, then you're not all that straight either."

"What do you mean?" He was sure he never had any feelings or desires directed towards men before. But this wasn't just a man, after all, it was Brendan.

"The way you look at me, the way you wanted to touch me in my room earlier today, the way you keep flirting back, the way our knees have been touching for some time now, but you haven't flinched or pulled back, the way you stare at my mouth when I talk, the way you ditched one of the most beautiful women out there just so that you could sit here with me, eating a lukewarm stew without complaining. Should I go on?"

"I don't do it on purpose. I don't even think about it, I just do it."

"There's nothing wrong with that." A mischievous smile was playing on his lips, and Jay was sure that if he were a dog, he would be salivating at his own thoughts. Maybe the product of all that imaginary drooling made his stubble glisten in the dim light, or maybe it was just some of the leftover stew they ate earlier.

"You have a little something here…" He brushed his finger over the side of Brendan's mouth, feeling the softness of the lips beneath it, and when they parted to let out a small gush of air, and the tongue darted over the lower one, Jay reacted by pushing his finger in, just a small fraction but enough to make Brendan lose the little control he had over himself and he went in for a kiss, right across the table. At first Jay didn't move. He just closed his eyes and let the feelings take him, but even though it was barely a peck on the lips his body went into an instant overdrive, filling his mind with images of Brendan kissing, licking, biting, scratching, groaning and he momentarily remembered why he left the bed and rather spent the night twisting and turning in the small armchair.

"No!" He pushed Brendan away. "What're you doing?"

"Er…"

"Is that all you think about? Is that all you want from me?" Jay was mad now, his anger seeping into his every movement, every look, every syllable he directed at the older man.

"What? I don't… Where's this coming from?" Brendan was ready for any kind of reaction from the boy, except for him being furious at him.

"I'm not one of your conquests that you'd bring to the spare room for a quick fuck before telling them to get lost."

Brendan was taken aback by this. He wondered who the boy had been talking to, and his own frustration was beginning to show now. He started shooting questions one after another, not really giving Jay the time to answer any of them.

"How do you know anything about that? Are you spying on me? Who are you? Some PI? Did my grandmother hire you?"

"NO!" In exasperation, Jay pushed out his chair and was on his feet in an instant, almost getting into Brendan's face. "I have no idea who your grandmother is, and I don't care. I saw you."

There was a pause there, until in a pained voice he continued.

"I SAW you. In that bed, with those men. I can tell you what you do to make them relax, pliant. I can tell you how you manipulate them to do whatever you want them to, or let you do whatever you want to them. I can tell you what you tell them when you want them to come. I can tell you how you feel emptied and hollow after you finish and you want them as far away as possible after."

"Stop it." There was a warning there, coming from Brendan.

"I can tell you that after they leave you promise yourself that they will be the last one, because they can never do justice to what you really want. And I can tell you that you know it is a lie because you know that you'll be doing it again, and again and again."

"Stop it! Just stop it." Brendan was almost pleading now.

"Am I wrong?" He hoped he was, but he knew without any doubt that wasn't the case.

"How?" Brendan traced his fingers over Jay's cheek lightly. "I never told anyone about that. How do you know these things about me?"

"I just do." Jay shrugged it off.

"It's not fair, though. You are judging me without knowing all the facts."

"I'm not judging you. I have no right to. But I am not one of them. I will not be one of them. Okay?"

Brendan nodded his head a few times, already completely convinced that nothing about this boy would ever make him resemble those faceless tricks he'd used over the past year or so.

"Earlier today, you said I reminded you of someone. Who were you talking about?"

"I can't tell you that. You'll think I'm nuts." Jay was panicking at the very thought of telling Brendan how he had been dreaming or fantasizing about him ever since he was 16.

"I already think that." Brendan tried to lighten up the mood.

"I will tell you, just not today, okay?"

"Okay." Brendan used the nearness between them to breathe into Jay's ear.

"I don't want to use you."

"You're lying," came a quick reply.

"Well I do, but not in the way you think." He smirked.

"Prove it."

There was something intriguing about having this conversation without looking at each other. Brendan still had his lips grazing Jay's lobe with every word he uttered, while Jay's short comebacks fell directly onto his neck, making him shiver like a little boy. The added sensations made the interaction much more intimate and breathless than it should have been in such a crowded place.

"How?"

"Give me time."

"How much time?" His arm went around Jay's waist, holding him close, wanting to make boy see some sense. They effected each other in equal measure. The boy was trembling too.

"As much as I need. And even then, I can't promise anything."

Brendan could wait. He knew there was no way Jay would be able to resist the strong pull that existed between them. Sooner or later, he would be his. He wanted it to be sooner, though.

"Just let me do this one thing, and then I want you to tell me how you felt about it. But you'll have to be honest with me. If after that you want to take things slow, I'll honor your wish."

Jay nodded, swallowing hard. He had a feeling where this was going.

"What is it that I'm supped to let you do?"

"Not here."

Brendan grabbed hold of Jay's hand, and pulled him out of the booth, towards the door, and straight up the stairs that led to the lodgings. His uncharacteristic behavior made a few heads turn on the way, one of them being Mitzee's, who almost wracked her own neck trying to follow their movements out of the venue.

As soon as they were outside their rooms, Brendan pushed an astound Jay against the wall, raised his arms above his head, holding his wrists firmly with one of his hands, while the other grabbed the boy's hip and pulled him closer. He brushed a kiss across Jay's mouth, up his cheek, and to his ear, and then whispered,

"Tell me that this doesn't feel good?"

Mesmerized by the low timbre of Brendan's voice, Jay didn't even react when the other man cupped the back of his head and slowly moved his lips down his cheek again, towards the chin, then back up, finishing the little journey by ghosting a small, almost non-existent kiss over Jay's lips. When Jay thought that was all he was going to get, and thankful for small mercies, Brendan crashed his lips against his own with such insistence, that he forced air to escape through boy's lips, opening them wide enough for his tongue to slip in. Brendan wanted to see if the boy's passion and his hunger were as deep as his own, so he held nothing back.

Jay's eyes widened at the soft touches of Brendan's hand, whose fingers were curled into the freed strands of his hair at the front, giving him gentle tugs to move his head from side to side to provide for an easier access. His mouth ravished his, his tongue plundered and conquered every single part, taking ownership as no one else had ever even tried.

Jay might not have responded with the same urgency, but he didn't pull away either.

As Brendan released his wrists from above his head, in favour of getting hold of the younger man's hips again, Jay let his own hands do their sensory exploration. He moved them across the broad chest, feeling the strong muscles respond to his touch by contracting, becoming overactive. He enjoyed the power he had over them, but could not fully concentrate as Brendan was still deep in his mouth, sending insanely strong impulses to his already over-stimulated brain.

Choking on a harsh groan, Jay pushed at Brendan's chest, severing their touch. They were both fighting for breaths, but whereas Brendan was basking in self-satisfaction, Jay was battling a string of conflicting emotions: confusion, embarrassment, worry. He was vibrating with a very personal earthquake, his feelings so completely out of his control that he wanted to cage them, lock them away or push them to the back of his mind. It lasted only until their gazes locked again, and the unexplained awareness of each other crackled like a live fire between them once more, making Jay's expression soften, the corners of his mouth curve into a cautious invitation. Immediately, Brendan placed his thumb at the curve Jay's mouth made, easing it open with the slightest of pressures. And just like that, with no further prompts, Jay allowed him the entry.

This time the kiss was tamer, warm and languid, like a promise of things to come. Brendan's hands slid down to the small of Jay's back, pulling him flush against his chest, ending the kiss on a small moan. Jay took a step backwards, his back colliding with the wall, and moved Brendan with him, enjoying the soft pressure the other man's body was exerting over his own.

"So?" Brendan needed to know if Jay was ready to admit that what had just happened was as incredible for the boy, as it was for him.

"Do you always kiss like that?" Jay was still fighting to get enough air into his lungs.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"I …" Jay wasn't actually avoiding the answer. He was stunned into silence. None of the kisses he'd ever shared had been even slightly similar to what he had just experienced. He didn't even like kissing that much. It almost felt forced when he did it with girls, a foreplay he very much liked to avoid. But kissing Brendan… Although without a doubt passionate and unrestrained, it also felt easy, relaxed, natural. For the first time in his life, Jay considered not being as straight as he believed.

"Hey, if I stepped out of line or did something you didn't want me to…"

Brendan was immediately cut short.  
"No, that's not it." Jay placed a hand on hischest again, not able to resist the urge.

"Then what?"

Jay had to admit to himself that he'd never reacted to a kiss like that, as if everything inside him simply let go, and part of him wanted to throw himself at Brendan, even there in the hallway, for a repeat performance.

"I wouldn't mind you doing that again," was all he managed to say.

When Brendan, feeling encouraged by those words, tried to kiss him again, he was stopped by the boy's palm that ended directly over his lips. Jay then pressed his own tightly together, then pursed them as though he was sucking on a lemon. Brendan noticed that Jay did this a lot. He was growing fond of the action.

"We are still taking this slow."

"You might regret saying that. " Brendan was looking at him knowingly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. What if I told you that very soon you'll be begging for me to go faster? That I'll make you so crazy that you'd want to spend every second with me? That you'll start craving my touches, my kisses, even my bites," he punctuated his words with a tiny bite at the side of Jay's chin.

The boy laughed at that. "So sure of yourself?"

"So sure of us, of this," Brendan said, as he planted another chaste kiss on Jay's lips, which immediately caused them both to moan, and lean in for more. The exchange tuned powerful, Jay's lips opening up to take Brendan's thick exploratory tongue that darted in and out, filling him in a way that spoke of urgency and lustful hunger. Eating up his own words, he urged Brendan to speed the kiss up, grabbing hold of Brendan's hair and drawing him further in. They were so lost into each other, that when a loud voice from the corridor interrupted them, it took them a few moment to register the intrusion.

"Hey, Bren, would you get your ass down here! It's starting to get busy."

They both turned to see Mitzee frozen in the doorway at the sight of the two of them making out. Jay tried to untangle himself from Brendan immediately, almost tripping over his own feet in the process.

"Well, that didn't take long." It came out more as a disappointed sigh than a statement.

When neither of them responded, she continued with her jives.

"Well, I am sorry for being the one to crash this little private party you two have going on there, but I really need Brendan to relieve me. Oh, and quite possibly, so do you."

With an evil grin, she pointed at Jay's crotch and the bulge that was prominent underneath his jeans.

Satisfied with the awkwardness she'd obviously caused, Mitzee turned around and walked away, leaving Jay as red as he could possibly get, and Brendan just as pleased with the reaction. When Jay's expression turned to one of distaste, Brendan felt the need to defend his friend.

"Don't let her get under your skin. She can be annoying as hell, but she's a good pall. She's just a bit jealous."

"It's not her that I'm angry with. It's me."

"Why, because of this?" Brendan brushed his fingers against the bulge in Jay's pants, which was, despite all the drama, still undeniably there.

"Don't…," came a pained reply before Jay stepped away to avoid his touch.

"It's a normal reaction, nothing to be ashamed of." He brushed a strand of hair that fell over Jay's eyes and pushed his head up so that he could look straight into them. "I can assure you it will happen quite often when you're around me."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Brendan knew how terrifying it was to realize, for the first time, that your body was responding to the same gender, especially if you believed yourself straight for most of your life, so he didn't push it further.

"Listen, I need to go down and help out. It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. You are welcome to join me if you'd like."

Jay checked the time and realized that it was already past midnight. They must have spent more than an hour in the hallway. He didn't even realize they were at it for that long. His head was a mess, the events from that day playing out in his mind as if in slow motion, making his emotions rise to the surface once again. He needed some time alone to be able to process it all.

"I think I'd rather go to bed, if you don't mind."

"Right." Brendan was disappointed, but he didn't blame the kid. With all that happened between them, he felt both emotionally and physically drained himself.

"Okay, look, I'm not letting you sleep in that chair again. You can take my bed."

When Jay started to protest, he quickly added,

"I'm not taking a 'No' for an answer. You can sleep under the covers. I'll crash on top of them once I finish the shift. The bed is huge. We won't even have to be near each other. "

"If this is just your way of getting me into your sheets, or if you try anything, I swear…"

His remark brought a huge smile to Brendan's face instantly, and Jay couldn't help but be proud of it.

"If I do, you have my permission to sack me in the nuts or something."

"Now that's something to look forward to. "

Brendan just pushed him playfully towards the door.

"Go ahead, it's not locked."

"Good night, Brendan."

"Night, Goldilocks. Be careful not to break my bed while I'm not in it."

"What?"

"I'd prefer us to do that together."

"You're such a creep!" Jay mumbled back, but he was smiling when the door closed behind him with a soft click.

*** Is Jay giving in too easily? Will he be able to resist Brendan's advances? Do you want Brendan to work hard to get him? What do you think will happen once Brendan gets into the same bed with Jay? Let me know your thoughts. :D


	7. Tasting a virgin

***Here's a little Christmas treat for all of you to enjoy. :***  
***I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes in the last few chapters (I even saw some words missing O_o). I hurry to get them out and often don't have time to proofread them. I really hope you don't mind.

Jay barely managed to get out of his clothes before crushing onto the bed and pulling the soft covers up to his chin. With only his boxers and a T-shirt on, the room felt chilly and he welcomed that strange warmth Brendan's sheets provided, as if the man's body was still wrapped in them – which begged the question, how could something like that even be physically possible? To most, the answer was "it couldn't", but to Jay it was just one of the unexplainable sensations he had been experiencing ever since he came to meet the other man. He really had no strength in him to reason about it. Even though he had only been awake for a few hours or so, he could feel the exhaustion taking over, as he knew it would. It was just one of the aftereffects of the accident he had been involved in when he was 16.

After being flown to the hospital, where doctors had spent three and a half hours operating on both his heart and his brain, and almost dying twice on that operating table, he was finally put into a medically induced coma, a state he remained in for several months, recovering from the damage and trauma he suffered. It was supposed to reduce the electrical activity in the brain and allow the body to switch off, focus on the healing process. But for Jay, the experience was somewhat different.

He designed this new, vivid and intense reality during his comatose state, with events ranging from joyful to absolutely heartbreaking, with friends and family he loved and cared about yet mourned losing, with a partner that filled his heart with unconditional love and sublime happiness. He created and replayed a totality of his life in minute detail, except that it didn't seem like a hallucinogenic product of his not so effectively shut down mind. For him, it was absolutely authentic. Waking up and realizing that none of it was true, hit him harder than he could have imagined. To make things ever worse, the memories he constructed vanished one by one, leaving him with an unexplained feeling of loss and an unparalleled desire to find that one person from his dream world that made his existence meaningful.

Due to the severity of his brain injury, emerging from sedation turned into a gradual and slow process, Jay constantly drifting in and out of consciousness. When he finally did come out of coma it was with a combination of physical, cognitive and psychological difficulties that required a team of doctors to fix. He was unable to move both upper and lower limbs properly, his coordination was completely off and so was his balance. He experienced high levels of fatigue which were more of a mental nature, making him unable to concentrate or participate because his brain refused to respond. His speech was slurred, some sounds impossible for him to produce. The whole situation made him become even more withdrawn than he had been before the terrible accident.

He alienated most of his friends and even some members of the family during that time. He had no desire to talk to or be around anyone. When he did have visitors, he barely acknowledged they were there. The struggle with all the new disabilities made Jay extremely irritable and easily provoked into short outburst of anger which he regretted right after. He didn't feel like himself, and he acted like it even less. So, people preferred to stay away. The only person who never gave up on him was Mikey. No matter how hard he tried to push him away, his friend always came back.

His dedication and determination gave Jay a reason to fight to get his life back so, with his help, one by one, the hurdles were overcome. Over time, he developed a routine that helped him get things under control. He swam almost every day, the water helping him to release stress and tension from his body while doing wonders for his muscle tone and strength. He slept for exactly 8 hours. Anything more or less would cause his body to react unfavorably. He also had to go to sleep exactly at the same time every night and wake up exactly at the same time every morning. He ate 3 meals a day, and drank an insane amount of liquids, especially milk. He avoided being in the sun for too long, and kept away from places that were crowded and stuffy. He lived by his rules and followed the schedule. As long as he did, he was almost as normal as the next guy. Of course, that was not really true.

Physically, he became stronger and healthier than before, but the influence of the made-up reality of the months he spent unconscious was more than evident. He would shiver for no particular reason, or react to a song or a line from the lyrics with emotions so strong that they left him exposed and vulnerable. He would feel someone's touch on his skin in a middle of the night, when no one was there, and he craved it, knowing without any doubt how wonderful it would make him feel. He would taste a kiss on his lips, the powerful mixture of one person's essence and substance filling his insides with fiery heat. Sometimes he would wake up in his bed sobbing, feeling his heart breaking, and not knowing why. He only knew that he was extremely missing someone. The overwhelming need to find that one person, to get them back, to make things better this time around, was always, always present with him. At times, he even mourned ever waking up.

This is why finding Brendan shook him to the core. He both hoped and feared that this man could be the one he was searching for. His body's instant reaction to his closeness, the recognition with which he was struck, his openness to the new experiences this man was promising, his willingness to go through the intimacy with the man, and his constant desire for more of him, all led him to believe that Brendan was not some ordinary bloke he came across while on this little adventure. If anything, Brendan WAS the adventure, but one he didn't think he would like to end any time soon, if ever.

Thinking about the man left him tossing and turning around on a yet another bed, unable to find a comfortable spot. It was a bit cold in the room, just the way he liked it, yet tonight that just wasn't enough to bring along the sleep he desperately needed. After such an eventful day all he wanted was to get enough sleep to be able to function in the morning, but it proved impossible at the point. It seemed as if every cell in his body was surging with unneeded and unwanted energy. Where was all that élan when he actually had any use for it? It figured that he would faint at the most inopportune time because his body couldn't take the strain, yet when he had finally gotten the chance to replenish the lost sleep and recharge, he couldn't make himself do it.

With a groan he rolled around, twisting the covers around him. Rolled up like a Swiss roll, he closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. But moments later he opened them again when he realized that it was actually much too hot for his liking. With another irritable groan he tried to untangle himself, but failed spectacularly and only managed to get himself even more wrapped up in the sheets. About to scream from the frustration he opened his mouth, but closed it with an audible snap when he heard bemused laughing coming from the direction of the door. Poking his head from underneath the material that turned him into a human burrito, he was greeted to a blazing bright smile coming from the man he was not able to get out of his head anyway. He was standing there, leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What ARE you doing?" Brendan asked, a wide grin still on his face.

Jay could hear him perfectly, but he refused to look at him and instead burned imaginary holes into the wall on the other side.

"How long have you been standing there?"Jay mumbled, desperately trying to kick the covers off himself but, just like earlier, not able to get out of them.

"Long enough," came a playful reply.

Embarrassed by the whole situation Jay hid his red face in the pillow. Of all the things that could have happened… If Brendan hadn't thought he was an idiot before, he had to be thinking it now. He wished he could disappear, anywhere would have been better than there. But no matter what he did, or how he moved, he got himself even more lost in the seemingly endless fabric. Just as he was about to call it quits and stay like that possibly for the rest of his miserable life, he felt tugging other than his own. Then in a matter of seconds he was free and lying face up on the bed, with Brendan glaring down at him.

"How did you do that?" He looked at Brendan like a child would, with eyes full of wonder.

"Practice," he smirked.

"Yeah, I've forgotten for a moment that you've had a lot of that."

"It makes one perfect. And more importantly, it gives me the confidence to do what I am about to do. "

"And what's that?" Jay swallowed hard, instinctively closing his eyes.

He could feel the bed dip as Brendan carefully lowered himself to hover over him and brushed his lips against his forehead. Jay heard him sigh in pleasure as he drew his fingers through his hair, tugging at little snags and sending a myriad of sensation through him. He then lowered his hand down the side of Jay's face, across his neck, boring his fingertips into the skin, until he finished with a light pressure over his heart. Then, just like that, his touch was gone. Jay bit his lip to stop himself from asking for that hand back. Just that one perfect move and his body was already begging for more. He could feel Brendan shifting sideways, pulling him along with him, but he kept his eyes closed, not having any more of that energy from before to look at him.

"Would you open your eyes already?" Brendan softly asked. "If we are doing this, I need you to look at me."

Jay could feel the hard lines of the other man's body against his own and when he moved himself on top again, making their groins grind in the process, Jay was mortified to hear what sounded like a whimper coming from his lips.

Brendan tried to move away, misinterpreting the sound for one of pain, but Jay instantly reached for the man, and grabbed him with both hands, locking him in place.

"You don't want me to stop, do you?" Brendan hummed.

Jay could only shake his head slowly, his mind more fixated on the small, moist tip of Brendan's tongue that darted out to lick his perfectly shaped lips than the words coming from between them. He never even registered opening his eyes.

"Then show me that you want this too."

When Jay made no move Brendan continued,

"I almost don't want to touch you right now because I don't want you to think I'm about to manipulate you, like you think I do with others."

When Jay's eyebrows creased at that, he immediately corrected himself,

"Like I DO with others."

Brendan felt the overpowering need to ravish the boy beneath him, and if it had been anyone else, he would have done it without any reserves. Normally, he didn't even care. He would do whatever it was necessary until he got them to give him what he wanted but, with this boy, he needed to be careful. Jay wasn't ready for the furious passion he would unleash on him. Although there was definitely desire in the wild eyes that were still completely focused on his lips, there was also apprehension there. And, for whatever reason, Brendan wanted him eager and without any hesitation. So, he would wait. He was willing to take his time, to let this go as slow as the boy needed.

Still not able to divert his gaze from the moistness and redness of Brendon's lips, Jay licked his own more out of nervousness than any attempt to entice.

Brendan swallowed a groan and leaned forward.  
"Open for me. Let me taste you."

He slipped a hand behind the boy's neck, caressing his cheek with his thumb as he lowered his mouth to his, nipping, begging for an invitation. He ran his tongue along Jay's lips and as soon as they parted, he pushed his tongue in, causing the younger man to gasp softly as their kiss deepened. Meeting again in a brushing of desire, their chests pressed and grinded against each other. Jay's back arched slightly into his touch as Brendan ventured down his neckline, biting hard enough for his teeth to leave marks in their way.

"I need more than this," Brendan challenged. "I need you to touch me."

He tried attacking Jay's mouth again but the boy broke the kiss instantly with a gasp, staring at Brendan with wide eyes. He smirked at his cuteness and couldn't help but tease, slowly rolling his hips into the boy's steadily growing erection.

"I know you want to," he murmured in a low voice. "We've barely gotten started, and you're already this excited. Imagine how it would feel if you put your hands on me. Anywhere on me," he added suggestively.

Jay's heart pounded with an exhilarating mix of fear and desire. He still hadn't touched Brendan anywhere below the waist and he wondered how he would react if he did. He gulped as he traced his fingers between the well-defined lines of Brendan's abdominals down to the coarse trail of hair under his belly button, visible where the shirt rode up. He dragged his palm across to his thigh, feeling the heated skin and firm muscle through the denim.

Perfect brows lifted in sudden arch of wickedness. "Here?"

"Why don't you start here?" Brendan smiled and moved Jay hand to cover his lips. "You seem to like these."

"Oh, I do," was an honest reply. Jay's thumb tested the fullness beneath and before he could stop himself, he pushed it past Brendan's bottom lip. As quick as lightning, the man turned his face and caught his finger between his teeth. His eyes locked on the boy's as he slowly bit down, breaking the skin, flushing dark heat to Jay's very core. Not breaking eye contact, Brendan gently soothed his tongue over the bite mark, lapping up the single drop of blood. And with that, Jay's resolve snapped.

He slid his fingers down the older man's throat, and began unpicking the buttons of his shirt, watching his face as he revealed a bodyscape of pectoral muscle. His jaw clenched and his hands stuttered in his haste to get the material out of the way. He couldn't hold back from touching him any longer. He was going to crawl out of his skin at any moment. Brendan straightened up slightly to tug the shirt the boy unbuttoned off his back. He tossed it carelessly to the floor, causing Jay to become suddenly distracted by the expanse of pale skin before him and letters 'L' and 'S' tattooed on each collarbone. The letters were complemented by a tinny cross with a ring around it. Stunned, Jay sat up and ran his hands over Brendan's chest and the marred skin. He was convinced that he saw that cross somewhere, but in a state he was in, he knew he wouldn't be able to remember. He started to ask about the meaning of the tattoos, but was quickly interrupted by Brendan's sharp "Don't!"

He was surprised to see an embarrassed look on Brendan's face, before he moved away a bit, obviously fighting the need to cross his arms over his chest defensively.

"If you are looking for an explanation, you are not going to get one." He wasn't looking at the boy, and his earlier zest was completely gone. Whatever those letters stood for, it was important enough for Brendan to react this strongly.

Normally, Jay saw Brendan as overly confident to the point of being cocky. It was a refreshing experience to see him so uncertain and subdued.

"Maybe, one day, I'll get to find out. It' doesn't have to be today. "

Brendan looked at the boy contemplating if he could ever do that. Explaining why he got the first letter of his daughter's name permanently imprinted on his skin was easy, but could he ever justify how Steven's got there as well? No one would understand. He wasn't even real.

"I doubt that."

When he first started living in Dublin, he missed his daughter terribly. He got to see her every other weekend, spend a whole a day with her, but it was never enough. After one such day, where he thought his heart would break after leaving her with her mother again, he first got himself into the nearest church before hitting the first bar on the way home and drinking himself into oblivion. He woke up in a hotel room with a strange man beside him, and a feeling of guilt washing over him, as if he betrayed Steven's trust by being with someone else yet again. But that wasn't all he woke up with. Two red patches were covering his chest and when he removed them he saw the initials. Ne never regretted getting them, but he would never be comfortable enough explaining why they were there at all.

Seeing how Brendan hadn't even moved since they last exchange, and seemed somehow lost in his own world, Jay felt guilty for effectively killing the mood and tried to get up from the bed, but Brendan pushed him back, a playful look returning to his face in a matter of seconds.

"Are you trying to get away, Goldilocks?"

Keeping up with Brendan's mood swings was going to get some getting used to, Jay thought. It was pretty much the last thing on his mind once Brendan's teeth were back on him, sinking into his shoulder over his thin T-shirt.  
"I think you have a thing for biting," Jay offered between breaths.  
"And I think you love it. You are not as squeaky clean as you appear, boy."

Jay hated when everyone assumed that he was just some proper British gent just because he wore nice clothes and had a good education. Wishing to show Brendan just how dirty he could be, he sneaked his hand between them, right to the man's crotch.

Brendan sucked in a breath through his teeth when the boy gripped him through his jeans. He stilled for a second, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing harshly through his nose. When his eyes flashed open again, Jay could see that the pupils had dilated until only a sliver of his sapphire irises surrounded the gaping blackness.

The intensity of Brendan's gaze actually frightened him, and he was unable to move for a long, heart-pounding second, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood trapped into a corner by the big bad wolf. At the same time, thrills shot down his spine, pooling into the dark heat between his thighs. No person had ever looked at him like that before.

Brendan's lust was tangible, and he felt it caress his skin and settle into his bones, inciting him on fire as well. He licked his lips, then tightened his grasp on Brendan, squeezing him generously against his palm.

"You are playing with fire, boy."

Jay's long lashes rose to reveal his blue eyes, soft and languid with arousal.

"You started this. Finish it."

That was all the encouragement Brendan needed. Maybe Jay wasn't ready to go all the way through, but he was definitely going to make him come back for more.

He hooked his thumbs under the boy's shirt to yank it off and he obediently lifted his arms in the air, allowing him the motion. Brendan paused for a moment, startled by the unexpected sight of him shirtless. He couldn't help but stare at Jay's broad shoulders, his creamy skin stretched over the hard rows of muscles, and the intriguing trail of scars that ran all over his left upper body.

"God, maybe this is a mistake." Red-faced, Jay covered his chest with his arms after awkwardly reaching for his T-shirt.

Brendan stopped him with a firm hand on his arm, "Where are you going?"

"I should be leaving. This is why I shouldn't have stayed in your room, in your bed. I'm sorry." He pushed up against Brendan, who swatted his hands away and pinned them to the bed on either side of his body, close to his sides.

"Are you serious?"

"The way you were just looking at me, like I was damaged, like I was broken and ug…" Jay couldn't take that. He knew how horrible those scars looked.

"Perfect." Brendan whispered the word over one of them.

"What?"

"You… are… so…. fucking …. perfect." Brendan repeated, kissing different parts of the protruding flesh on the boy's soft skin between every word.

Jay blinked at that, and the shirt that was still firmly in his grasp fluttered out of it to land on the ground.

"You think so?"

"I'm not good with words. Why don't you let me show you?"

Groaning, Brendan straddled his lap to be able to kiss him at a better angle, and wanting to accommodate him better Jay inadvertently slid up against him. Brendan stiffened at once and broke off from the kiss to gape at him.

"You little…"

"Shh… " Jay pressed a kiss against his plump, kiss-swollen lips to silence him, then grinded up against him again, this time, purposefully.

"This is going to cost you," Brendan gritted into his ear as the boy gyrated tight circles into the growing bulge in his pants. He grinned and leaned down to lave his tongue over his pulse point.

"You are so full of surprises, you little minx. But I also have one for you."

He winked at him before sliding down his body, getting on his knees, and shoving Jay's legs apart so he could kneel between them.

"Er, what are you doing?" Jay stiffened at once, sitting up straighter to try to look down at Brendan, who shushed him with a quick kiss, then danced his hand teasingly up his thigh, purposely avoiding his crotch, and tugged at his boxers.

"Oh god," Jay gasped as Brendan pushed them down and off, brushing against the erection already straining against the fabric. "Brendan? You're not really going to…Oh god!"

"Mmmmm…." He heard the man respond. "As I said, perfect," he commented as he finally got Jay naked and lying down before him. Brendan lowered his head between Jay's thighs and sniffed loudly.

"Just the scent of you could make me lose it right now, without even… Damn, I missed this."

"What do you mean miss…?" Jay couldn't finish the thought as he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the gasp he wasn't able to hold in. His eyes popped open when he felt the other man brush a tongue against his weeping head. When he repeated that action, Jay's head crashed back against the mattress as he shouted his name in a broken voice.

Brendan pulled back, surprised by the boy's intense reaction. All the other men he had been with would have tried to play it cool and acted like they hadn't been affected, even when he was balls deep inside them. And yet, with one little flick of his tongue, Jay was putty in his hands. It was so different from all of his previous experiences, yet strangely addicting.

"Oh, it's as if you've never been touched like this before."

"I haven't." When Brendan looked at him in disbelief, Jay corrected himself,"Not by a man."

If all of his reactions were going to be this strong, this was going to be so much fun. Brendan wondered why he had never tried a virgin before. A sense of power surged inside of him and he couldn't resist but to slide Jay deep in his mouth, watching him carefully through his eyelashes.

He didn't disappoint.

"Ah, Brendan!" He yelled as his hips jolted forward, further into the heat of Brendan's mouth, whose subsequent laugh was muffled by the younger man's girth, his throat burning from the pain of taking him in that quickly. It was so worth it. Every muscle was tense in his body, and despite the chill in the room, sweat beaded at his neck and temples.

The boy's breathing quickened so much that the older man became afraid that he could hyperventilate, so he paused for a moment, taking pity on him, "If you want me to stop at any point, I will," he promised him.

Jay bit down on his lip, seemingly torn, but when Brendan started to follow through on his promise he yelled "No!" a little too quickly, grabbing his wrist, but then releasing it just as hurriedly before sheepishly rubbing a hand over his face, "I just… please don't stop."

Brendan snickered at his reaction but nevertheless asked,  
"Are you sure?" His eyes were soft, but wariness lingered behind desire, and Jay wondered what left such an imprint on his soul.

He teased Brendan's mouth with small kisses, pushing back against his body to leave him in no doubt. "Make me sure, Brendan."

*** I promise to finish this little encounter by New Year's Eve. The story will go on for at least a dozen more chapters, though, if not more.  
***Did you expect the tattoos? ;) Hit me with your thoughts. They are always welcome.


	8. Power games

Well, hello again! I am sorry for disappearing on you like that, but trust me, I had a good reason. I don't plan on abandoning this ff and will do my best to upload soon. Here is a little something to prove I'm serious.  
Kisses!  
XXX

Brendan wrapped a hand around Jay's base to offer respite for his inflamed throat, took one more look at the young lad's face searching for any doubt. When he found none, he slowly lowered his mouth and carefully continued to go down on him, his hand squeezing and stroking what his mouth couldn't reach. He was good at this, he knew that, but he had never been in a greater need of validation than he was at that very moment. The fact that Jay was staring at him with huge, puppy-dog eyes throughout of it, his fist crammed into his mouth to stifle his cries, pushed him even further, his own desire dangerously growing. He could still feel the boy's deep groans vibrating through his chest, spreading like wild fire, making him all hot and flustered. He looked so adorable like that, that Brendan fought back the urge to pet his hair like puppy's and struggled to concentrate on getting him off.

He needn't have bothered. The boy pushed back against the sheets, reached for him and with an unexpected strength dragged Brendan up by his shoulders, bringing their lips together in a crushing kiss. Taken by surprise, all Brendan could do was oblige. He had to give it to the boy - he could kiss. The full lips were both soft and punishing at the same time, his tongue protrusive and demanding, his teeth grazing Brendan's skin, making him frenzied. He was getting lost in it. He didn't want to, but he needed to pry himself off the lad or he seriously wouldn't be able to control what happened next. Yet, he couldn't get a word in and he didn't want to push him away, so once again he closed his teeth over the boy's lower lip and bit hard, just short of drawing blood.

He expected Jay to stop, draw back, accuse him of being unnecessarily rough, maybe even push him away. But, before he knew it, he was thrown on his back, both of his hands held in a viselike grip above his head, and he was being pinned to the bed by a very angry youth. Confused above anything else, Brendan stared at the bruised lips hovering above him, seeing them slowly twist into a coy smile. 

"What the hell was that?" Brendan was feeling a little uncomfortable by this change of power. He was always, always the one in control.

"You wanted to play rough?" the boy asked. "Is that what you like?"

"It is." Brendan responded, but his answer sounded more like a question. "I mean, yeah."

But not with you, he though, not right away, at least. "I mean, …" 

"You don't have to explain." Jay carefully pushed his body against Brendan's, kissing his chest and working his way up. "I'm game," he squeezed in between the kisses. "But remember, I am not helpless," he added, slowly releasing his hold on Brendan's wrists. "I may seem clumsy, distracted and accidents prone," he smiled at that, "but I am NOT weak."

For some reason, it was very important to him for Brendan to see that. His whole life people treated him as if he was fragile, as if he could break at any moment, just because he survived a horrible car crash. But he fought through it. He got his life back together. He never wanted to be seen as a victim again.

"No, no you're not." And for the first time in his life, Brendan liked that in a man.


	9. What makes you feel whole again?

*** I am so glad you guys haven't lost interest in this story. Enjoy, my loyal followers : - *

'As long as we are clear on that', Jay said, moving away from Brendan. He managed a few inches before the man grabbed his hips and pulled him back into the straddling position.

'I kind of like you there, on top.'

Brendan surprised himself by even saying it. In all of his experiences with men, he was always the one on top, the one who dominated, the one that directed how it all played out. But seeing Jay's fierce expression and an obviously desperate desire to have at least some control over what was happening between them, he decided to compromise. He could do that, let the boy think he was in charge while guiding him through what he hoped was one of his many sexual fantasies come to life.

Obediently, Jay lowered himself back, his pelvis now dangerously close to Brendan's. The man looked pleased. He gave Jay a knowing look and put his somewhat moist hands on the boy's thighs, then started moving them up, exerting more pressure once he reached his abs. He spread his fingers wide, slid them up his torso, slowly, seductively, curling the tips so that they would leave distinctive marks all the way up to the boy's neck. Then he turned them into a feather light touches over his pulse points, then the chin, before forcefully tangling them into the loose strands of the boy's hair and tugging him down for an abrupt kiss. Any complaints over the roughness were muffled when the kiss proved to be soft, exploratory, almost tentative. He nudged gently, coaxing his lips apart, until they slipped open and clung to his. As he began to feel more assured of Jay's responsiveness by the little breathless sounds he was making, he deepened it, heightening his efforts by nipping at the lips, sucking and pulling, the primitive male inside of him taking over. Jay's moans turned to whimpers and Brendan found that once he started this, he couldn't stop. Everything about the boy electrified him, gave him life, and for some dumbfound reason, new hope.

His blood began to rush through his veins and course like lava to his ears, where it pounded like a drum. He felt as if he was drowning in the kiss, the need to survive urging him to gasp for air before he went under for good.

He pulled away from the boy's mouth, only to press their foreheads together. He shook his head from left to right a couple of times, not able to explain what had just happened. He'd never shared a kiss like that before. He looked at the boy's lips, as if an explanation would be planted on them, then moved up to glance at his eyes. He expected them to be closed, but they were dead focused and unblinking. The boy kept staring at him, their faces so close, their breaths uneven, and Brendan was barely able to resist the urge to close his eyes against the force of his vivid gaze. It was like the boy was stripping him to his very core, pushing past all his intricately made up and sewn-together layers, and seeing the real him underneath it all. It frightened him more than anything he could say or do, and he scrambled to get himself out of that situation.

'You're wounded.'

Brendan froze in the action of wiggling out of his grasp and glared up at him with wide eyes.

'What?'

'Damaged. Not whole.'

Although a lot of people sensed that about him, he'd never heard anyone say it to him without ulterior motives, without trying to provoke a reaction and he was not sure how to react. He pushed against the boy, but he only gripped him tighter.

'Don't get defensive. I didn't mean it as an insult.' Jay released Brendan's upper body from his hold and went to cover his hands with his own.

'I guess we are more alike than I thought. That's all.'

Brendan's eyes were dark and impossible to decipher as he continued to study Jay's face.

'Maybe that is why I am attracted to you. Because, just like you, I haven't been whole for a long, long time.' Then, he leaned down and kissed Brendan. It was a chaste kiss, just a press of his lips against Brendan's, but it broke him into pieces.

He crushed the boy's mouth again, this time not caring about being gentle, needing to silence him and comfort him at the same time. He wanted to fill that hole so desperately, and for the first time ever, he wasn't being literal. He laid the boy down on top of him and kissed him with all he got. He placed one hand on Jay's waist to steady him and the other on the bed for support and he rocked forward, mimicking the thrust of his tongue which plunged and retreated, wrestled with his in a frantic dance that left him on a dangerous edge. They both moaned and the next time he did it, Jay pushed back to meet him.

That one movement brought the awareness that only one of them was naked. Jay couldn't help but take a look at where their bodies came together, strangely excited at seeing his length, hard and heavy, spread across Brendan's abdominals, the stark difference between his tanned skin on his pale one making him blush. Yet again.

'One of these days that blush of yours is going to cause me to explode,' he heard the man say.

Brendan undoubtedly knew what went through Jay's head since he slowly guided his hips up and peeled his pants off. He finished the job by using the soles of his feet and he flung the unwanted material away quickly, not caring where it would land. The underwear was gone too.

'Better?'

'No, not really.' Jay said in a wavering voice. 'I don't really know what to… I mean, I-I'm nervous.'

'You know you can stop this at any time, right?' Brendan reassured him. 'Do you want me … to stop?'

'No!' This time, Jay was certain.

'What do you want?' Brendan asked. 'Tell me.'

'You. Just you.' Jay paused, confused by his own words, but ceding all control by letting his hands drop freely by his sides.

Brendan pushed himself up until he was sitting, nudging the boy slightly in the process. Jay was about to protest, but his words died down as they slowly turned into a long sign of pleasure when the action brought their lengths into contact.

'Then take me,' Brendan groaned, as he put the boy's hand over his cock.

Jay took his first look at it. It was a shade darker than the rest of Brendan's body, and so, so hard. He licked his lips nervously. He knew what Brendan was asking him to do, he just wasn't sure how. It's not like he ever did that before. Well, not to someone else at least. He wrapped his hand around Brendan's shaft and concentrated on touching it the way he would touch his. When his first movements caused Brendan to hiss and buck, he became more confident. He tightened his grip, just a little at first, then more, until he was tugging hard, his hand making wet, smacking sound as it slid up and down.

His eyes slipping shut, Brendan let his hand wander from Jay's hip and drop down to wrap around both of their dicks, his fingers entwining with Jay's. Sweat from their bodies as well as the pre-cum provided the lubrication as they fisted their hard lengths together. Brendan's other hand reached lower, slipping over their balls, rolling them in his palm and pressing his fingertips to the soft skin behind them. As they started to rock their bodies together in a tantalizingly slow rhythm, Jay's head dropped to Brendan's neck, his mouth pressing biting kisses into the flash there in a way that had Brendan's vision blurring.

He never wanted it to end. He wanted to have Jay pressed against him, cock pulsating in his hand and beside his dick for as long as he could. He wanted to learn the texture and every minute detail of Jay's fascinating length, but his body was demanding a fast and furious rhythm. His fingers tightened as he pulled harder, making Jay do the same. Twinges of pleasure started at the base of his spine before shooting outwards to nerve endings he'd never known existed.

'More, Brendan. _Please_ ," Jay begged him on instinct, even though it wasn't really what he wanted either. He never wanted the feeling to go away and he desperately tried to hold onto the man. His entire being narrowed down to the pulsing in his balls, the feel of hands, and skin, and cocks, and mouths and excruciating ecstasy.

'Do it!' He ordered, startling Brendan into action. He couldn't arch any more, couldn't thrust. All he could do as his world exploded into brilliant bursts of light was to make sure Jay followed him there.

'Come for me,' he ordered back before sinking his teeth into the inviting flesh just above Jay's collar bone and squeezing their cocks in a desperate man's attempt to finish what he never wanted to end.

'Brendan!' Jay wailed, digging his nails into Brendan's hand working them both up, so hard that he thought he could hear the skin tear.

Brendan grunted in pain, but never pulled away.

When streams of musky and heated spunk covered their fingers, they felt each pulse through the other's skin, each throb of their rapid heartbeats. Their joint orgasms felt like they had the strength of solar systems colliding and left them shaken to the core.

Jay collapsed onto Brendan, apparently unconcerned with the mess between them. With his hair rumpled, his body covered in sweat and the smell of sex radiating from him, Brendan doubted he'd ever look more attractive to him. He pinched his chin to bring his head up, and when the boy finally looked at him, the blue of his eyes were mere rings around his pupils, blown in what Brendan smugly recognized as contentment.

Xxx

Cum was all over their lower bodies, thighs and hands, there was some even on their chests. When he could finally breathe normally again, Jay tried to scoop it up, but only managed to spread it even more. He brought his hands up, then held them out to his sides. He looked at one, then the other.

'We need to wash up.'

'You think?' Brendan smirked at him. 'I'll pop into shower and get the water ready.'

'I kind of need the shower first. Not to mention a nap.' Jay pushed away the shyness over the last part of his statement. The idea of having Brendan lying beside him in bed for the rest of the night …  
'Don't fall asleep on me then, Goldilocks. It'll be just a few minutes, and you are welcome to join me then' Brendan said as he slid the bathroom door open.

As much as Jay both dreaded and wanted to take him on the offer, neither of those things stopped him from falling into a deep sleep the moment his eyes closed.

Brendan re-entered the room with a bathrobe in his hand, intending to throw it at the boy and tease him into another round under the steaming water, but just as he approached the bed, he recognized the gentle sounds of Jay's breathing and knew he was fast asleep. He realized he wasn't really disappointed. At least he would get a chance to spend the night next to his warm, hot body, and for now, that was strangely enough. He came back with a wet towel and wiped the sticky substance from Jay's chest, thighs and hands, being extra careful not to wake him up. He tried to focus on the boy's face, wanting to see the sheer beauty of Jay's expression in his sleep, but he kept going back to the scar tissue that covered the boy's heart. He was insanely curious as to what had caused it, yet he knew that he would have to wait for an explanation.

He threw the sheets over him thinking that he might be cold and shook his head at his own action. Then, without even thinking about it, he trailed his fingers down the boy's hairline and wiped away the loose strands from his face.

'What is happening to me?' he asked in a low voice before letting a small sigh leave his chest and getting under the covers. Almost instantly, he put his hand around the boy and drew him near.

*** More to come soon


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